


to the end of the line

by tigriswolf



Series: comment_fic drabbles [182]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Altered Mental States, Bucky Barnes is so tragic, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Codependency, Dehumanization, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Introspection, M/M, Memories, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, POV Multiple, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Reclaiming, Revenge, Steve Rogers will burn the world if he has to, Suicidal Thoughts, Team Bonding, Torture, Violence, roaring rampage of revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:08:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 60
Words: 26,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1577903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unconnected drabbles set post-Winter Soldier, about Bucky&Steve, together and apart.</p><p>I'm condensing most of my shortish MCU Steve&Bucky based ficlets here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the kind you stop

**Author's Note:**

> Each of these will have their own warnings. 
> 
> ...
> 
> Title: the kind you stop  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Cap2  
> Warnings: spoilers for Cap 2  
> Pairings: gennish  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount:145  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: any, any, love means you risk getting burned.

Director Fury, Natasha, Sam, Agent Hill – they all warn him that there might not be anything left of Bucky to save. Steve knows that’s not true; he’d have drowned if it was. 

Sam tells him gently that even if the Winter Soldier can be salvaged, Bucky Barnes might be gone forever. Even if that _is_ true, Steve wants to get to know whoever the Winter Soldier will become.

He doesn’t tell any of them that he’s done fighting against the Winter Soldier. He let Bucky fall, and while he slept in the ice, Bucky was tortured and brainwashed and turned into a weapon without a choice. But he _chose_ to pull Steve out of the water. He _chose_. And if he finds him only for the Soldier to complete his last mission… 

That’s a risk he’s willing to take for the chance to see Bucky again.


	2. No color in the Rainbow perceive, when you are gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: No color in the Rainbow perceive, when you are gone  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Dickenson  
> Warnings: Spoilers for Cap2. Suicidal thoughts. Steve has PTSD and is also probably clinically depressed.)  
> Pairings: Steve/Bucky leanings  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 185  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: MCU, Steve, wrath is my sin

It’s simmering beneath his skin, has been since he woke up ( _has been since Bucky fell, Bucky fell, Bucky **fell**_ ), and he smiles for them, for SHIELD, for the cameras, for the people who follow him around the ( _enormous_ ) stores and watch wide-eyed as he buys things he doesn’t need. 

He is so _so **so**_ angry, and he doesn’t know how not to be. 

He felt relief as he fought the Chitauri, whenever SHIELD has a mission for him, whenever he runs so fast his lungs cramp like they haven’t since he was 95 lbs and 5 foot 4.

But when there’s nothing to do, when he’s alone in his head, he can feel it simmering.

And then there’s Bucky, and there’s Hydra ( _cut off the heads and cauterize the stumps, raze it all to the ground, **burn the ashes**_ ), and for one glorious moment, Bucky screaming at him, Bucky hitting him so hard he feels it in his soul – he feels joy, all the way down into the ice, and knows everything might finally be right, even if it kills him ( _please let it kill him_ ).


	3. I would change for you but, babe, that doesn't mean I'm gonna be a better man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: I would change for you but, babe, that doesn't mean I'm gonna be a better man  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from “Sleep All Summer”  
> Warnings: spoilers for Cap2  
> Pairings: gennish  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount:  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: MCU, Steve/Bucky, sleep all summer.

Bucky Barnes died when he fell; Winter Soldier is his grave. 

Steve flinches when he says that, but James knows it’s the truth. 

He is not Bucky Barnes, can never again _be_ Bucky Barnes, but neither is he the asset anymore. The Winter Soldier died when he went into the water after Captain America; James (whoever James is) is the Winter Soldier’s grave. 

“I’m doing this for me,” he tells Steve, “not for you,” and Steve smiles at him.


	4. I loosed a dove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: I loosed a dove  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Gilgamesh   
> Warnings: spoilers for Cap2: Winter Soldier  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 110  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Any, any, a visceral reaction to a fear he/she doesn't understand

The asset is falling. 

No, the asset cannot be falling. 

He is awakening – the lights are bright, the handlers with their firm touches, too-tight grips (the asset is an asset and must be treated as such, what is kindness, what is kindness) (— _Bucky_ )

The asset’s eyes adjust and he obeys their commands, confirms the mission, eliminates three targets, returns to his handlers, gives his report, and obeys their commands. 

The asset is falling. 

He cannot be falling – he sleeps without dreams, always, and he is an asset. Assets have no weakness. 

.

(The asset watches his target fall. 

The target is falling. 

—Bucky—

The asset lets go.)


	5. Your first words have yet to be said

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Your first words have yet to be said  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Elton John   
> Warnings: spoilers for Cap2: Winter Soldier; identity issues  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 255  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: any, any, "It's never too late to be who you might have been." - George Eliot

_Your name is James Buchanan Barnes_ , the target said. _You've known me your whole life_.

 _Then finish it_ , the target said. _Cause I'm with you to the end of the line_.

James Buchanan Barnes, says the Smithsonian, was a good man. 

The asset is not. 

The asset is a weapon, nothing more than a gun or a knife. The asset has no opinions. The asset has no fear. The asset does not hurt, or weep, or pray –

The asset does not dream of falling, of _Bucky_ being shouted and swallowed by the wind, by the snow, by the ice. The asset _does not_ dream. 

There are no handlers, now. No one to hold the weapon. No orders. 

The asset – without his handlers, what is he? Who? The _Bucky_ that the target called to so plaintively? _James Buchanan Barnes_ , hailed as a hero by the museum? 

The asset failed in his final mission; the target fell, and the asset plunged after him, pulled him from the water. The asset _chose_. 

But weapons have no opinions. Whose weapon is he, now? 

_Then finish it_ , the target said. But the asset could not.

 _Cause I'm with you to the end of the line_ , the target said. 

Staring at his own face, reading a biography that sparks nothing in his mind, the asset makes another choice. 

Bucky Barnes is dead; he died saving Captain America. But James Buchanan Barnes? Whoever he is? Maybe the asset can try to be him, whoever he might be. 

(That night, James dreams of falling.)


	6. supplication of a dead man's hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: supplication of a dead man's hand  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; all quotes from the movies; title from TS Eliot  
> Warnings: spoilers for Cap2  
> Pairings: gennish with Steve/Bucky leanings  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 285  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: any, any, "don't go where I can't follow"

_Don't win the war 'til I get there_ , he said, and then he became a supersoldier, and he performed like a dancing monkey, and he thought he was 'doing his part' for the war, and he hated it, he _hated every last second of it_ , but he was doing his part, and --

The 107th was captured, Bucky was _dead_ , but he couldn't, how could he accept that without any proof? Of course he couldn't ( _you're taking all the stupid with you_ ) ( _I'm with you to the end of the line_ ) so he found Bucky (alive) and tore the base down around him, and he was finally doing his part, finally doing good --

And. And then. 

And then he couldn't reach far enough and Bucky. 

Bucky. 

Throwing himself after Bucky would be spitting in Bucky's face, would make his sacrifice worthless, and he needed to tear Hydra down and burn it all. 

(He could have escaped the plane. 

No, he couldn't have.)

He wakes up and they tell him they won the war. 

He wakes up and aliens tear open the sky. 

He wakes up and there still battles to fight. 

He wakes up and Hydra's still alive. 

(He wakes up and Bucky's looking at him with blank eyes, Bucky's attacking him, Bucky's shooting him, Bucky's stabbed him.)

(He wakes up choking on water, and he knows he couldn't have gotten himself out of the river.)

There's only one battle left for him. He's given enough of himself and he refuses to dance to anyone else's tune anymore. 

_When do we start?_ Sam asks and Steve looks down at the file. 

He let Bucky fall once. Bucky pulled him out of the river. 

_Right now_ , he says.


	7. all coming back to me now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: all coming back to me now  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from a song  
> Warnings: Spoilers for Cap2. All quotes from either it or First Avenger  
> Pairings: Definite Steve/Bucky leanings  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 180  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: any, any, it was lost long ago but it's all coming back to me now

"Don't do anything stupid 'til I get back," his voice says. 

"How can I?" Captain America's voice says back. "You're taking all the stupid with you."

He is sitting in an abandoned building in Virginia, eyes closed, straining what little memory he has. He remembers missions, handlers, how to kill and how to hurt, how to evade authorities, how to pretend to be harmless, how to pass unseen. He remembers how to speak eighteen languages and read five more.

He does not remember what he likes, how food tastes, if he ever enjoyed anything at all. 

He does not remember Captain America, but Captain America had said, _You’ve known me your whole life_

"Don't do anything stupid 'til I get back," his voice says. 

"How can I?" Captain America's voice says back. "You're taking all the stupid with you."

His memories cannot be trusted; he knows he has been wiped and remade. Who is he? Who was James Buchanan Barnes? Captain America loved him. 

Captain America loves him still. 

He lets his head rest against the wall and keeps trying to remember.


	8. pencil and paper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: pencil and paper  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for Cap2  
> Pairings: Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 185  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: rose

He sketches when he can’t sleep. Sometimes it’s how he remembers New York, or the Commandos, Peggy, Howard. Sometimes it’s the Avengers, the Chitauri, Loki and his horns, modern cars. Sometimes it’s the war.

Sometimes, it’s a pair of hands he knew better than his own (before and after the serum), or eyes, cheekbones, lips curved in a cocky smirk, a torso and back with scars he knew every story for, powerful arms that could cradle him once. He never sketches all the parts together. He never says the name that went with them.

Until. Until the mask falls off of Fury’s killer.

His whole world has fallen to pieces again. He doesn’t lift a hand to protect himself from – from Fury’s killer or the traitors. He has to, he has to –

 _Bucky_. Bucky is alive. Bucky’s in the enemy’s hands again.

Well. He didn’t destroy Hydra last time; he put a plane in the ice instead, leaving the clean-up to people he trusted. This time?

This time he’s burning it to the last root and bringing Bucky home. And he doesn’t care who gets in the way.


	9. (his)story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: (his)story  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for Cap2  
> Pairings: Steve/Bucky leanings  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 475  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: story

The books don’t mention how cold the winters were, both in Brooklyn and in the war. Steve Rogers’ story always starts in Camp Lehigh, even the biographies. Maybe a paragraph of his childhood, but then it takes off at Camp Lehigh and ends in the ocean. It starts with Erskine. 

_**No**_ , the man who is now James thinks, looking at a picture of himself in _Captain America: The Legend_. That is not where the story starts.

He doesn’t remember much, the man who has called himself James for 25 days. _Your name is James Buchanan Barnes_ , Captain America told him. The name means nothing to him, but he takes it. It is better than _Winter Soldier_. Better than _Asset_. Better than nothing at all.

He remembers the past 25 days. He remembers the museum, the helicarrier. He remembers his mission, and choosing not to carry it out.

He remembers Captain America.

The history books start at Camp Lehigh, where Captain America learned to be a soldier. They talk about the procedure in New York, his USO tours, his first attack on Hydra, where he rescued over 400 prisoners, including his best friend and future second-in-command, Sergeant James Barnes. The man with James’ face.

 _You’ve known me your whole life_ Captain America said. _I’m not going to fight you_.

The winters were cold, and there was never enough food. More than once, he stayed up praying to Steve’s god because Steve was too good to die like that.

James stares down at his own face in black and white. That is not the asset’s memory – of Steve straining to breathe, of his own voice cursing at God.

 _You’re my friend_ , Steve Rogers told him, letting his shield fall.

James Buchanan Barnes died for Steve Rogers. He fought and killed for Steve Rogers. He picked Steve Rogers up and dusted him off, and stood between him and harm for 20 years, and most of the books gloss over that. Captain America’s story starts at Camp Lehigh and ends in the ocean.

“You’re my mission,” James tells Captain America’s picture. He closes the book and tosses it on the pile with the other lies.

Bucky Barnes died in 1944. The asset died in 2014. But James is still alive, and so is Steve Rogers. Bucky never trusted anyone else with Steve’s care, and there is no one better than the asset.

Steve Rogers is searching for his friend. SHIELD has been torn down, but Hydra is still reeling in its death throes.

Seventy years. There is much James owes Hydra.

The stories are wrong. Captain America’s story began on a sweltering summer day when he tried to fight three bigger boys to protect a dying dog. Another boy, not yet Steve Rogers’ friend, got involved because he didn’t like unfair fights. And Captain America’s story has yet to end.


	10. the weapon with no name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the weapon with no name  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: Spoilers for Cap2. Mentions of torture/brainwashing/violence  
> Pairings: Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 625  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Any, any vs any, the origin of a grudge

There is a weapon with a title but no name, and he is a powerful weapon indeed. He is the greatest weapon ever built by Red Room, and when Red Room fell, he was sent to Hydra rather than be destroyed. 

Let Tony Stark have his Jericho Missile, his Iron Man suit – just as the Winter Soldier once killed Howard Stark, Howard Stark’s son would be no problem at all.

…

There is a weapon with no name, and he is awoken only for the greatest of targets. He has caused wars, terrorized nations, wiped out bloodlines. 

(He has done _none_ of that, Captain America will say in a few years’ time. _He_ did none of that. The weapon (given a name at last) will not believe him.)

There is a weapon with no name, and he is awoken to kill Fury, Nicholas J., Director of SHIELD. 

There is a weapon with no name, and he is sent to kill Captain America and the SHIELD Agent Black Widow. 

There is a weapon with no name, but – 

_I knew him_ , he repeats to himself as his handlers order him wiped. _I knew him_.

…

There is a weapon with a name. As he fights Captain America, as Captain America keeps talking, as Captain America falls into the water -- _James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky. All your life. My friend_.

There is a weapon with a name and he plunges into the water. 

…

There is a man reading a museum display about himself. He could kill everyone in the building in under ten minutes, if ord—no, if he _chose_. He chooses not to. 

There is a man in a stolen hoodie and stolen baseball cap, hands in his pockets, his metal fist clenched. 

There is a man whose identity was taken from him. Who was turned into an unstoppable weapon and set loose, loyal only through torture and mindwipes. That is no loyalty at all. 

There is a man somewhere looking for him. A good man. The best man. 

There is a man who watches the old videos, who looks at the pictures, who wonders – once, he loved Captain America. That much is obvious. No, he corrects himself, staring at his own face smiling so wide, so true. James Buchanan Barnes loved Steve Rogers. Enough to die for him. 

Enough to break through Winter Soldier to save him. 

…

There is a man with a name. He is still the greatest weapon ever built by Red Room, still the best weapon Hydra ever wielded. 

Red Room was dismantled, but Hydra… Hydra still wants Captain America dead, and James Buchanan Barnes has all of Winter Soldier’s skills, and love enough to defy death. 

_Cut off one head_ , he thinks. The weapon had no knowledge of mythology, and Bucky Barnes hadn’t cared much for book learning, but James decides to study while he builds his strength back up. Heracles killed the hydra by cauterizing the stumps as he cut off the heads. 

James is going to tear the remaining cells down and burn it all until nothing is left, not even ashes. 

…

There once was a weapon whose name was taken from him. 

Loyalty under duress is no loyalty at all. 

James remembers being a child and defending another boy, who grew up into a good man, the best man. James remembers loving Steve Rogers before he even knew what love was.

He has never been worthy of Steve’s love in return, he always knew that. But he protected Steve, from bullies, from cold, from enemy combatants, from death itself. He was good at it when he just a man; he’s the best at it, now that he has 70 years as the weapon’s experience to draw on. 

He goes hunting.


	11. turnabout’s fair play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: turnabout’s fair play  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for Cap2; mentions of death/violence  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 340  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: any. any, Try not to get killed this time  
> Notes: This is set after Avengers 2, so they're all one big happy family.

"We have got to stop meeting like this," Bucky says as he picks the lock on the shackles holding Steve down. 

Steve just blinks at him, head lolling to the side. "You're drugged," Bucky says. "Okay. Shit." 

Something explodes to the west; Bucky didn't set any charges there, plus his still have four minutes to go, so that must be Steve's team. In the wake of - _everything_ , Steve had decided they should all work together more often, and when Bucky remembered enough, he was glad of that. Steve needed the best watching out for him.

“C’mon, pal, time to get up now,” Bucky said, pulling Steve to his feet. He staggered into Bucky, mumbling something unintelligible, and something else exploded. “Steve, hey, Steve,” he says, gently patting at Steve’s cheek. “Steve, you with me? We’ve got to go.” 

Steve mumbles something else. So far, Bucky is not impressed with the Avengers’ Steve-wrangling ability. He steps towards the door, towing Steve with him, and shoots the five minions he sees in the hall. 

Something roars; there’s another explosion. Three more minions go down, though only two to his shots. “Hawkeye?” he calls without stepping into the hallway. “Widow?” 

“Who the fuck are you?” demands a rough voice. Hawkeye, then. Someone the Widow trusts implicitly, which is a very short list.

“I’m – I was Winter Soldier,” he calls. Steve lists to the side, so Bucky catches him again. “I’ve got Captain America here, but he’s too drugged to fight his way out.”

A very charged silence is filled with more minions. Fuck, how many of them are there? 

“Get him out of here,” Hawkeye orders as the minions fall to both a hail of bullets and arrows. “If you do anything to hurt him –”

Finally, Bucky’s charges go off. “Just burn this place down,” Bucky shouts over his shoulder, guiding Steve towards the exit. 

If Hawkeye replies, it’s lost in the screaming. 

“Just like old times, eh, Steve?” Bucky asks. 

Steve’s answer is to trip over air, so yeah, it is.


	12. Never gonna hold the hand of another guy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Never gonna hold the hand of another guy  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Travelin’ Soldier by The Dixie Chicks  
> Warnings: takes place post Cap2  
> Pairings: Steve/Bucky leanings  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 230  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: any, any, Travelin' Soldier

In storage somewhere, in a museum famous the world over, there is a packet of letters written home. They all start with, _Hey, Steve,_ and end with, _I’ll see you soon, Bucky_. 

In the packet next to it is another bundled bunch of letters. They all start with, _Hey, Buck_ , and end with, _Don’t worry about me, I’m doing fine, Steve_. 

Bucky’s letters to Steve never made it to him because he’d been living at Camp Lehigh, not in their Brooklyn apartment. Steve’s letters to Bucky chased him around Europe, and were then forgotten after Steve’s dramatic rescue. 

The letters were carefully kept by Gabe Jones and Peggy Carter, and then finally donated, when the first talk of a Captain America exhibit started up. There was such a wealth of information, though, and the letters were a bit personal, even with how both men must have censored themselves, since the letters would be examined by authorities before being sent on. 

When they pull Steve from the ice, the curator thinks about offering the letters back to him, but then the Battle of Manhattan, and then HYDRA – 

Well. There are more important things to worry about than 70-year old letters in storage. 

But then Bucky Barnes is back from the dead, and he’s standing beside Steve Rogers, and the curator pulls those packets of letters out and mails them home.


	13. a good man to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a good man to be   
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: Spoilers for Captain America 2.  
> Pairings: Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 235  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: any, any, let's think romance and I'll be someone else

Bucky Barnes loved Steve Rogers enough to come back from the dead and rip through the Winter Soldier to save him. 

Steve Rogers loved Bucky Barnes enough to break into Hydra with barely any training, on the off-chance that he might still be alive. Enough to drop his shield and stop fighting because being dead was better than being without Bucky for one moment more. 

Bucky Barnes is _dead_ , but so is the Winter Soldier, the Asset, the weapon that Hydra created with Bucky Barnes’ corpse. 

So who is he now? 

… who does he want to be?

.

His parents called him James. His masters called him nothing at all. His handlers called him the Asset. His enemies called him the Winter Soldier. His unit called him Barnes or Sarge. 

Steve called him Bucky. 

.

Bucky Barnes is dead. So is the Asset. 

But Bucky rose long enough to save Steve Rogers, so maybe… maybe he can try to be Bucky again. If Bucky had earned Steve Rogers’ love, he must be a good man to be. 

.

Bucky steps out of the Smithsonian into a bright noon-day sun and walks towards the street. It is a new world. A world without masters, without handlers, without orders, without missions. A terrifying world, yes, but also… 

A world with Steve. He’s done shaping the century. It’s time to live. 

He’ll kill anyone who gets in the way.


	14. Three times, ‘tis said, a sinking man comes up to face the skies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Three times, ‘tis said, a sinking man comes up to face the skies  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Dickinson  
> Warnings: mentions of abuse/violence/death/Hydra being a fuckwad  
> Pairings: gen with MAJOR Steve/Bucky leanings (of course)  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 430  
> Point of view: second  
> Prompt: MCU, any, "If you say (any)'s name three times she/he/it'll turn up."

_Bucky?_ the target says, and deep inside, something shivers. 

_James Buchanan Barnes_ , the target says, and deep inside, something howls. 

...

Someone, somewhere, is waiting for you to return, to sit in the chair, to submit, to sleep. Someone, somewhere, will die beneath your fists, your blades, your guns. Someone, somewhere, is panicking because you will not arrive in a timely manner. 

No. There is no schedule to follow, no commands to obey. There is no master, now. 

You are your own master, and your fists are clenched, and your jaw is tight, and your will never submit or obey again. You will arrive when you choose, and it will be with the sweeping fury of a hurricane, the implacable wrath of winter. 

Deep inside, something roars. 

...

They search for you, your one-time masters and your one-time target, both. You are following them the whole time, picking off the would-be masters and guarding the steps of the one-time target. 

What to do with him, this Captain America and his winged friend? Protect them both, study them, discern their mission, yes, but beyond that? 

One day, all the heads will be cut off, all the stumps cauterized, and the monster will lie dead, broken and hollow. What will you do then? 

Who will you be, then, with no targets at all? 

…

Steve Rogers was once your whole world. You remember that time when you sleep; those dreams are far more restful than your memories as Hydra’s fist. You once protected Captain America as you did Steve Rogers, but you never followed the icon. You followed _that little guy from Brooklyn_ , the one _too dumb not to run away from a fight_. 

Steve has been getting into more foolish and desperate fights, leaving his back wide open. You know why, and so does Sam Wilson, who berates him for it nightly. His tirades are not as fearsome as the ones Steve’s long-dead friend used to give him while icing his bruises, while bandaging his wounds. 

Steve’s long-dead friend… 

Deep inside, something snarls. 

…

Steve opens the door barely half a minute after you knock. You have timed this perfectly; Steve goes on runs at the same time every morning, while stateside, as he is right now. Sam Wilson was injured during their last raid on Hydra. Hydra’s greatest weapon, rogue for a year now, provided them with cover fire during their exit. 

Steve blinks at you, mouth open in shock. “Bucky?” he breathes, eyes wide. 

Deep inside, something settles into place, and you nod. “Hey, Steve,” you ( _Bucky_ ) say, smiling your first smile since 1945.


	15. the miracle is coming back from the last war alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the miracle is coming back from the last war alive  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from James Humphrey  
> Warnings: post-Winter Soldier; talk of death/violence/torture  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 210  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Any, any, _Your mind is the scene of the crime_. (Inception)

He remembers falling. He remembers cold and dark and pain that faded too quickly to be anything good. He remembers shouting and sharp cuts and a hurt that encompassed the world. 

He remembers forgetting. It was a slow process, his breaking and reforming into their weapon. It took years. He remembers them all, now, and the decades of his slavery as the bloody fist of Hydra. 

He remembers how long it took Bucky Barnes to die, and how hard a death it was. 

He remembers faces. He remembers names. He remembers locations. The asset saw it all and never forgot. Their machine didn't burn it out of him; it blanketed the knowledge in snow and froze it to walls of ice, but they are shattered, now, fractals melting on the ground of his mind, and Bucky Barnes wields a fire that will raze them all. 

He remembers. He knows secrets Hydra has long buried, and he knows their weaknesses, and he knows their procedures. He knows where all those in authority will run, will hide, will wait for the storm to pass. 

The storm will not pass. He owes them 70 years of pain and blood and the cold of not-quite-death, and he remembers that Bucky Barnes always paid his debts.


	16. I shall be telling this with a sigh somewhere ages and ages hence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: I shall be telling this with a sigh somewhere ages and ages hence  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: post-Winter Soldier; talk of torture/violence  
> Pairings: gen with Steve/Bucky leanings  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 215  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: any, any, "The Road Not Taken" -Robert Frost

“Where to next?” Steve asks, opening the map. Bucky’s slouched on the other side of the booth, in a hoodie and gloves, one hand still wrapped around his soda even though it’s mostly just melting ice, now.

“I’ve never been to Australia,” he says, voice softer than it ever was in their first life. There’s a hesitance to him, now, like he’s never sure of what he’s saying or why. 

“Me either,” Steve tells him, tucking the map away.

Somewhere new. Somewhere with no blood, no footprints, no echoes in both their minds. 

The waitress bustles back with refills and their lunch; Steve thanks her while Bucky looks down at his hands. 

Steve wants vengeance, he really does. He wants to look every scientist in the eye, wants to make them burn and hurt and bleed until there’s nothing left but a sack of flesh, and then he wants to go after the politicians, the guards, the agents on the ground – he wants Hydra dead in the dust, and then he wants to grind the bones into powder and salt the earth. 

But more than that, he wants Bucky to _live_. 

Bucky eats slowly, savoring each bite. Steve asks him, “What do you know about Australia?” 

Bucky smiles at him and says, “You know what a platypus is?”


	17. the hour of the ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the hour of the ghost  
> Disclaimer: not my characters (except for Kat); title from Anne Sexton   
> Warnings: post-WS  
> Pairings: Steve/OFC, Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 390  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Any, any, I woke up next to him/her wishing they were you

“Her name's Kat, she's really nice,” Natasha said, “really big history buff. Give her a call. You're so lonely, Steve.”

Three months into the search for Bucky, taking a week off to decompress, try to relearn to breathe, sleeping for fourteen hours at a time in Sam's guest bed. 

“Have you actually done any living since you woke up?” Natasha said. “It's not healthy, all work and no play. I know.”

Her name's Kat. She's got unnaturally blonde hair, green eyes, a tattoo on her shoulder that peeks from under her dress. Natasha bought them tickets to a ballet, and Steve takes Kat to a nice place after, and they talk about -- well, history, for her. Three years ago for him. 

It's so bizarre.

She can’t talk about how she knows Natasha, and Steve doesn’t mention any of – well, anything he’s done since he woke up, except the day-to-day stuff. The museums he’s visited, the sight-seeing he’s done to relearn a city he once knew. 

Kat’s really nice, Natasha was right about that. He walks her to her door and she invites him in. 

He’s so tired. He’s so lonely. It’s been four years since he touched anyone intimately, so he lets Kat push him onto the bed and tries to turn off everything but pleasure. 

He wakes up the next morning to Kat climbing out of the bed and has to close his eyes to keep the tears from falling. 

Steve knows he won’t be able to do this again, no matter how lonely it gets. 

He gets dressed, thanks Kat for the good time, and goes back to Sam’s house, where he showers till the hot water runs out, and then stands in the cold, shivering as he ignores his memories of the ice. 

“So?” Natasha asks when she calls later that day. “How’d it go?”

“Fine,” he says. “But I’m not going out again.”

Four years ago, he woke next to Bucky, curled up with him to stave off the cold. They were on the way to capture Zola. 

“We’ve been resting long enough,” he says to Natasha as Sam walks in the door. “We’re getting back to work tomorrow.”

Natasha sighs, “Aye aye, Captain,” and Sam nods. 

That night, he dreams of Bucky in their old apartment, flipping through Steve’s sketchbook, grinning at him, bright as anything.


	18. sleep wake hope and then

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: sleep wake hope and then  
> Disclaimer: not my character; e.e.cummings  
> Warnings: post-Winter Soldier; aftermath of torture/brainwashing  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 255  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Captain America movies; Winter Soldier; Sleep doesn't come easy

He does not remember how to sleep. He knows that he must have known it, once: every organic being requires sleep so as to recharge, to let the mind rest. Without sleep, he knows (though he does not know why, or how he learned, or when) people go mad and then die. 

He does not sleep outside of the cold, but there is no cold, here. He will not return to the cold, submit silently to the handlers and technicians. 

But without the cold – he lies down on the ground inside an abandoned warehouse. He knows the site is secure; he has made it so. He lies down, arms at his side, legs straight, and closes his eyes. He is tired, dirty, and hungry. He is not cold. 

He does not sleep. 

For six nights, he does not sleep. He is exhausted. Barely functioning. He almost kills half a dozen homeless people and a stray dog, so he stops going out. He spends days on the ground, ignoring the hunger and thirst. 

How do people sleep? His mind does not quiet. His body trembles. 

He must rest. He does not want to die – 

He blinks, staring at the ceiling. _He does not want to die_. 

If he does not want to die, then he must resume caring for the body. Sustenance. Water. Cleaning. Maybe – 

He heaves himself to his feet. Water, food, bathing. Maybe if he does not hunger, sleep will come. 

(It does. He wakes an hour later, but it is a start.)


	19. the true pleasures of life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the true pleasures of life  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: post Cap3  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 155  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Any, any, Sharktopus

After the shitshow that is his (entirely too long) life, the man who once was Bucky Barnes, once was the Winter Soldier, is now James -- look, he just really enjoys bad movies, okay? He can't explain it, and Steve doesn't get it because those made-for-TV movies _literally_ hurt his artist's soul, but James... 

Damn, he hurt himself, he laughed at Sharknado so hard. He hadn't laughed like that since 1940. 

So, yeah. He has Jarvis pull up every godawful that exists and he watches them all because he has damn well _earned_ it. 

But this one, it's something special. He notices Steve peeking around the corner, and Steve just stares at the screen. "Is that..." he sounds somewhere between fascinated and horrified. "Is that an octopus shark?" 

"It's _sharktopus_ ," James corrects with satisfaction. "C'mon, Steve. Give it a try." 

Steve heaves the deepest sigh he can and then throws himself down beside James.


	20. what history knows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: what history knows  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: Talk of brainwashing/torture/violence/death/mayhem. Post-Cap2.  
> Pairings: Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 780  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Any, any/any, Everyone Says I Love You [Revolution]

In his dreams, he is young and laughing. In his nightmares, he is cold and alone. In his waking moments, he is scared and angry and in pain. 

He prefers the dreams. 

.

History does not say much about Bucky Barnes. He is a footnote in Captain America's story.

History says less about the Winter Soldier: it is a ghost. 

.

Ghosts fade away. So does the Winter Soldier. The longer it is awake, the longer it runs and hides, the more a man appears, a man with opinions and wants and feelings. The asset felt nothing. The man feels _everything_. But if he ever knew what to do with emotions, the knowledge was stolen long ago. 

And that makes him _angry_. 

.

History says that Bucky Barnes was Captain America’s closest friend, his brother. 

The man’s memories say the same, but there is more to the story. There always is. 

.

In his dreams, he is young and laughing with a tiny blond boy. The boy calls him by _that_ name, and puts an arm around him, and tells him to be more careful, that luck’ll run out eventually. 

In his dreams, he says, “Stevie, don’t you know that luck’s always on our side?” and he laughs and laughs and laughs. 

.

In his nightmares, he slaughters entire cities. Families. Bloodlines and nations and continents. He kills people he doesn’t know for people he fears and hates, but he never slows and he never stops. 

In his nightmares, he has no name and is only a weapon, and he wakes with the certainty that he will never allow anyone power over him again.

.

In his waking moments, he keeps moving. The asset saw everything, even if it didn’t know how to process the information. It stored years of knowledge and the man knows how to access it, how to analyze it, how to hunt and track and slaughter everyone who had a hand in the asset’s creation and maintenance. 

In his waking moments, he is more than a ghost – he is wrath, he is ruin, he is vengeance… and he does not slow, and he does not stop. He was their puppet for 70 years, but he is a man, now. He is a man, but he knows everything the puppet knew, the skills and the intel, and he has nothing but time. 

.

In his dreams, there is a boy who loves him. In his nightmares, there is a man he kills. 

In his waking moments, there is a man following him with the boy’s eyes, and the man calls him by _that_ name.

.

History knows that Bucky Barnes loved Captain America. History is wrong. 

Bucky Barnes loved _Steve Rogers_ with everything in him, as a friend and as a brother and as the other half of his soul. 

.

He leaves a note at the smoking ruin, pinned to the one of the scientist’s bloody forehead. _Go home_. 

The boy from his dreams, the man from his nightmares, leaves a note in return, and he comes back two days later to read it. _No. Not without you_.

.

Bucky Barnes died in the snow. The Winter Soldier never lived at all. 

He waits for the boy to catch up because he wants to _live_. 

.

“Call me James,” he says, checking his gear to keep his hands busy because he’s nervous. He doesn’t like it. It seems like a silly thing to be. 

“I’m Steve,” the boy from his dreams replies. He glances up to see the man’s smile – but the boy is still there. The boy is always there. 

.

A lifetime ago, with a team, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers made Hydra’s mission extremely difficult. Since then, they have both become even more dangerous. 

Before, a lifetime ago, with a team, they had a war to worry about, superiors to placate, ideals like _honor_ and _integrity_ to uphold.

.

“You want the honors?” Steve asks, holding out the lighter. 

James takes it with a smile. 

.

In his dreams, he is young and laughing, and there is a boy who loves him. In his nightmares, he beats a man bloody and never looks back. 

In his waking moments, he is with the greatest man in the world, and he is happy and alive. 

.

History knows that Bucky Barnes died in the mountains. History is not wrong. Bucky Barnes died young and afraid and alone.

But James is riding shotgun in a stolen truck, as Steve explains about something called American Idol, and when he speaks, Steve _listens_ , and they plan together, they share a bed, they eat the same food and enjoy the same music, and James cannot remember a better time than this.


	21. deracinate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: deracinate  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: mayhem/vengeance; aftermath of torture/brainwashing  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 425  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: MCU, Winter Soldier, to tear something up by the roots

To say that he is blindly striking out is wrong. He's following a map that's burned into his mind because he saw everything without knowing what he saw. They spoke around him without censure because whatever mind he had was burned out of him twice a week, if he was awake long enough. He heard nothing in cryo, of course, and he did not dream (does not remember if he dreamed), but... 

The path he's on has been seventy years in the making. The people he's executing now weren't alive at the beginning, but they die all the same. They all die the same. 

Two heads will appear when one his lopped off; he remembers hearing that the first time he went after Hydra, side by side with his friends and brothers and Steve. 

They knew what they had, those fuckers who froze and cut and burned him. Is that why they made it hurt so much?

He makes it hurt more. Some beg. Some curse. Some stare blankly at their death, and some cry. He doesn't hesitate or flinch or rethink any of it. 

He knows now that some part of him was awake the whole time. Why else would the asset remember everything Bucky Barnes needs to know? Why else would the asset not protest or fight against Bucky Barnes’ crusade? 

A few of them shout code-phrases at him, and inside him, the asset doesn’t even flicker. He smiles at them, kills them, burns the facilities, and salts the earth. 

There is a map the asset has been marking for seventy years. There are secrets the asset heard and stored away. 

The path he’s on is erratic and makes no sense, and he knows that’s the only reason he’s not being followed. But he’ll go home when it’s done. If there’s still a home to go to. 

But he’s been fantasizing about this since the beginning, since the first cut, the first injection, the first burn – they made it hurt because he’d fought beside Steve. Because he was Steve’s. 

He makes it hurt so much more because he was _theirs_ and he remembers every single moment he was awake, now. He remembers it all. 

He knows where the heads are growing because he was never truly mindless, deep down. 

(He gets it, now. He won’t ever tell, not even to Steve. But it’s not Bucky Barnes going after Hydra this time. The asset _is_ him and always was.) 

He died trying to wipe Hydra off the map and they resurrected him. 

They shouldn’t have.


	22. masks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: masks   
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: post-Cap2  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 300  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: MCU, any +/ any, s/he's around somewhere. You just won't see them unless they want you to. Or you're on their list.

She's sitting in a pretentious coffee shop, reading a pretentious book, wearing pretentious clothes, with her hair up pretentiously, and ignoring her partner's snotty comments through the com. 

She doesn't know he's there until he's leaning over the table, saying, "Wow, babe, it's been such a long time!" and she looks up into those ice-blue eyes. 

"Yes, yes, it has!" she exclaims, reaching up to wrap her arms around him. She steals his knife at the same moment he steals hers, but they both sit back down, looking like old friends. 

(They _are_ old friends, is the thing. And enemies. And everything in between.)

He asks about her book; she comments on his hair. Idle chitchat. 

Her partner wants to know if she needs back-up; she gives him the passcode that means _safe; stay_. 

"So, what are you up to?" he asks, a smirk in his eyes. 

(It's been a year. Steve's still raging around the world, blowing things up.)

"Oh, this and that," she says as her target stands up. She flicks her eyes toward him; her companion follows the gaze and nods. 

"I'll leave you to it, then," he says. He rises to his feet and leans down to kiss her cheek. "You've grown up well," he murmurs in the first language she knew. "I'm proud of you." 

(What does she remember? Not as much as she wishes. More than she likes.)

She doesn't return his knife; he doesn't offer hers back. Instead, he says, in _his_ first language, "Tell our mutual friend that he's a goddamned punk and to get his ass home." 

"I will," she promises. She doesn't watch him leave. 

In her com, Clint says, "Tell me that wasn't..." 

She chuckles, dropping a five on the table as a tip and sauntering after her target.


	23. the old year is ending in the frost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the old year is ending in the frost  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Elizabeth Barrett Browning   
> Warnings: post-Cap2; talk of violence/torture  
> Pairings: Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 530  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Avengers movieverse, Bucky/+any or gen, he knows it's impossible to tell a wolf from a man if he keeps his chin up and his teeth clean

Steve tells him that the Winter Soldier is not who he is but what he was made to do. Hydra scooped Bucky Barnes out and poured their weapon in and they ripped him apart until he had no fight left, and it's not his fault, never was his fault, will never have been his fault, and Steve will beat the shit out of anyone who says otherwise. 

He never says otherwise but he thinks it. 

.

In Brooklyn, when they were kids, Bucky finished the fights that Steve started. He also finished the fights that never started because by the time they were fifteen or so, most of the boys and men of the neighborhoods they frequented (and the kids at school, too) knew that Steve Rogers was off limits, no matter what stupid shit he said. 

Steve is the best guy in the world, but he’s also damned oblivious. 

.

There are many things Bucky did in Brooklyn to keep Steve safe, to keep his sisters fed, to keep Ma from worrying, Dad from working too long. 

He never asks about it because he’s almost certain Steve had no idea, and it’s not in any of the books he’s read. But the Winter Soldier was not fully Hydra’s creation. (He doesn’t want Steve to know.)

.

They didn’t scoop all of him out. Just the parts that would never have fought for them. Just the parts that would ask questions, demand answers, blitz his way out and go home.

They kept the part that never flinched from blood, from necessary actions. They kept the part that wanted to be loyal to _something_. (All of the asset’s handlers were blond because Zola knew his subject well.)

.

Steve tells him that he doesn’t have to be a weapon anymore. No more missions, no more fighting, no more blood and death and violence. Steve tells him they can go anywhere in the world, do anything he wants.

Steve tells him he’s so happy, and he holds on at night, when they both wake up screaming. 

.

The asset was an elegant weapon shaped like a man. It was brutal when required, efficient, meticulous. There was only collateral damage when ordered. The asset did no more and no less than commanded and its handlers thought that meant it was a tool of mindless obedience. 

The asset was not mindless. But loyalty under duress is no loyalty at all, and some parts of Bucky Barnes were always there, beneath the surface, waiting. 

.

Steve asks him, “What do you want?” 

He doesn’t know. 

.

The newly-purged SHIELD wants him to fight for them. He has always fought and never for himself. When he tells Steve, “I don’t want to fight anymore,” Steve nods and smiles and goes to the new director’s office. 

He doesn’t say, “I’ll only ever fight for you.” That’s been true since Brooklyn. It’ll always be true.

.

He wakes up. Steve’s behind him, tucked in close, arms tight around him, hands clasped in his.

When he squeezes Steve’s hand, Steve wakes up, and he says, “My name is Bucky. Let’s get out of here.”

.

Steve tells him they can go anywhere. 

Bucky picks west and they go.


	24. I knew you before you were strong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: I knew you before you were strong  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: post-Cap2; talk of violence; stream of consciousness   
> Pairings: Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 450  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Any, any, a superhero is just a monster aimed in a different direction

Deep down, in the quiet place that screams at night when he can't sleep, Steve knows. He knew when he was little, before the serum gave him power; he knew in Europe, when Hydra was all he thought about, making them stop and then burning them down. He knew when he woke up and Fury's people gave him history lessons and trusted that he wouldn't be able to figure out enough to find information on his own. He knew after Loki and the invasion; he knew when he signed up with SHIELD in place of the SSR. 

He knows when the mask falls off of Fury's killer. He knows when he wakes up in the hospital. 

Steve knows he can't trust anyone but himself -- and Bucky.

Bucky, who might or might not be a lost cause, depending on who you ask. 

Steve's not asking anybody. The world gave up on Bucky once before; _Steve_ gave up when he delivered Zola instead of going back. That is a mistake he will never make again and it doesn't matter who gets in the way. 

Nothing matters but finding Bucky, making sure he's okay, protecting him, helping him...

Steve knows what he’s capable of, both physically and mentally. He was a clever little shit before the serum and the serum improved _everything_. No, he’s not as smart as Tony Stark, or as savvy as Natasha – but he doesn’t need to be. And Bucky…

Bucky. 

God, he just wants to tear things apart, burn everything down, make someone pay and pay and _pay_ until there’s some relief in his bones.

Steve wasn’t the idea guy, not always; neither was Bucky. They were partners, not the brains and the brawn or whatever stupid shit the history books say. Yeah, Steve started the fights and Bucky finished them, and yeah, Bucky was popular and charming and could’ve been friends with anybody.

The Winter Soldier and the Hulk show Steve how things might have gone. No wonder Dr. Banner doesn’t like being around him. And Bucky – is he even aware enough right now to get it?

Doesn’t matter. 

Steve can only trust himself to know what’s right. And whether anybody else agrees… he doesn’t give a shit.

The history books have him down as a clean-cut, all-American hero. He slept for 70 years – if he’d been around for all the shit that came after the war’s end, would they still say that? 

“Are you prepared for what you might find?” Natasha and Fury and Stark and even Sam ask. 

He wants to laugh. He’s prepared to do whatever it takes to keep Bucky safe and free. 

The thing is – the world isn’t ready for what that might mean.


	25. Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from TS Eliot   
> Warnings: talk of depression, violence, death, torture, brainwashing  
> Pairings: Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 390  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: any. any&any (or any/any). Milkvetch Your presence softens my pains

None of them realize the ghost has been haunting Steve until they have the ghost-made-flesh standing beside him. None of them realize that Steve has been drowning silently since the defrost until he takes a deep breath and surges out of the shallows, all because of the metal hand that drags him to shore. 

None of them realize who Steve Rogers actually is until they see the way he smiles at Bucky Barnes. 

.

Steve Rogers, it turns out, is a little shit. Also, just a bit terrifying. 

History left a lot of things out, Clint realizes, and Stark just cackles through the disbelief. 

.

Steve Rogers spends two years of his life angry and depressed, wearing Captain America like a mask. No one notices. 

Steve Rogers spends three months of his life following a ghost on a world tour of death and destruction, and he hasn't felt so alive since that first beating in an alleyway, when a kid pulled the three bigger boys off him and said, "This don't look like a fair fight." 

.

Steve Rogers actually _laughs_ and _smiles_ and _grins_. It's amazing.

"I hadn't realized it was that bad," Tasha confesses to Clint while Barnes teases Cap about something. "I mean, I knew it was _bad_ , but the severity..." She shakes her head. "He's a better liar than I gave him credit for." 

.

Steve Rogers spent seventy years asleep and the world moved on without him. A legend built on his name; a myth formed around him. 

When he woke, he was shoved right back into a war with nothing but his name and a uniform that signified whatever those in power wanted. 

No one realized that he hadn’t grieved in those seventy years, or moved on. He slept. He should never have awoken. 

.

But he did wake. And somehow, though Steve has no idea what he did for such a precious gift, Bucky’s here, too.

Bucky’s alive and Steve can breathe again. 

.

“Holy fuck, why wasn’t this in the history books?” Clint laughs, watching from a safe distance as Cap and Barnes have a goddamned prank war in Stark’s tower. 

“Would you have believed it?” Banner asks. 

“Nope.” Clint ducks the water balloon as Banner makes a strategic retreat, and across the room, Cap’s doubled over laughing and Barnes is haloed in sunlight, smiling.


	26. twenty words for darkness but none at all for light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: twenty words for darkness but none at all for light  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Matilyn Singer   
> Warnings: talk of violence/death/brainwashing/torture  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 425  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: any. any. Belvedere, I declare war against you

He turns away from the display with his face and goes to the one labeled "Howling Commandos." If Steve Rogers Captain America was his previous handler, then these men were his team. He reads and rereads the information provided before moving on to the next display. 

He memorizes everything for later review and returns to the display on Barnes. Barnes, who Steve Rogers Captain America called friend and dropped his only weapon for. Barnes whose display calls him a hero.

He has no memory of Barnes, or Steve Rogers Captain America, or the Howling Commandos. He has no memory that isn't pain and fear and rage -- he knows their names, now, the feelings inside. He even knows the word _feeling_ , _emotion_. He hasn’t been wiped in eight days, hasn’t been stored for ten. 

His body aches and he isn’t sure his head will ever stop hurting, inside. And he is terrified that his ex-masters will come for him, that the government will contain him somewhere, that it will be decided for a bullet to put him down. 

But above the pain and above the fear… he is _angry_. 

He does not remember what was stolen, but he knows that it _was_. And he knows that all those who stole it are long dead. But their heirs are still alive. Their protégés. Their successors. His continued existence is a testament to their legacy. 

He glances at Steve Rogers Captain America’s face, towering on the wall. He does not remember being Captain America’s weapon, much less friend… but he does remember Captain America pulling off his helmet, dropping his shield, not raising a hand in his own defense. 

He pulled Captain America out of the water. 

He nods to the image of Steve Rogers’ face and departs the museum as silently as he arrived. His mission, chosen and ordered by _himself_ , is to eradicate Hydra wherever it hides. 

He was a soldier, once. Codename: Winter Soldier after that, though he does not remember ever being called anything but _asset_. (How much should he trust memories? They can be planted or pruned.)

He was a soldier. Now he is a ghost. And he will haunt all those who maintained his cage, who beat and burnt and broke him.

He is not Bucky Barnes. He is not Captain America’s friend or weapon. He is simply the ghost of that man. 

He steps into the sunlight, wishing he could tilt his face into the warmth but he must mask his presence from the cameras recording everywhere.

He walks away.


	27. lived in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: lived in  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: post-WS by about two years; total fluff with just a hint of angst  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 250  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: any, any, bickering over minor household disagreements (toothpaste cap being left off, whether it's necessary t make the bed, etc.)

For the first year, Steve didn't actually mind. Bucky took great delight in leaving his stuff everywhere in the apartment and it was wonderful that he felt secure enough to do so. And Steve left it wherever Bucky put it because it was _Bucky's stuff_ and he could do whatever he wanted with it. 

Steve was glad that was Bucky was happy and that was that. 

.

But a year passed. Bucky got messier. Steve started gritting his teeth and keeping his own things tucked up neatly and cleaned the common spaces _around_ Bucky's stuff because _it was still Bucky's stuff_ , goddamnit, and he would respect that. 

(Before, Bucky was always so neat. All of his belongings had their proper place. But Bucky’s a new person, now, and that he’s here at all is a miracle.)

.

A year and a half into sharing the apartment, Steve finally asked, “Could you please keep the common areas a little neater, Bucky?” 

In response, Bucky started moving stuff from his room to the common spaces in ever greater numbers and once Steve got past the annoyance, he realized how amazing it was. 

Bucky didn’t comply with the understood order – he actively _rebelled_. And then, one afternoon, he made sure to meet Steve’s gaze (even though his entire body trembled at the defiance) as he toed off his slippers, and then he sedately walked back to his room. 

Steve laughed, loud and long, and looked around the living room. 

A little mess never hurt anybody, he decided.


	28. you know for me, it's always you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: you know for me, it's always you  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Taylor Swift  
> Warnings: violence, references to brainwashing/torture  
> Pairings: post-Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 400  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: author's choice, any, (504): i'm trying to reconcile what i did last night with who i am as a person.

A part of him is reeling in shock, even twelve hours later. That part of him is sure he should stop, hole up somewhere, and _think_. Call up Natasha and Stark, definitely Sam. 

The rest of him watches Buc- _James_ watch him, eyes shuttered like Bucky's never were. 

James doesn't say a thing. He's coiled tension, waiting for Steve's orders, and Steve _hates_ that. Hates Hydra and Zola and SHIELD and Pierce. Hates himself. Even in the war, when Steve gave orders, Bucky would have some smartass remark and he'd obey, most of the time, but he'd do it with a flare. 

But James...

Twelve hours ago, James got them into a research facility. It had a recalibration chair. James had kept darting glances toward it, his breathing just a bit hurried. There were a few guards, but most everyone in that facility was a scientist. Useless in a fight. They were terrified and begging for their lives the second they realized James was there. 

Steve had gone in there planning to call in Hill, have her take them in for being Hydra. Those were the orders he’d given James, and only the guards had been put down. The scientists were still sniveling. 

“James,” he said softly, “begin the self-destruct protocol for this facility.” He didn’t watch James leave, eyes focused on the scientists cowering on the floor. 

“Tell me,” he commanded them gently, “how many of you ever dealt with the asset?” 

Half of them raised their hands. He killed those monsters first. 

And now, he’s watching James watch him. He killed people in the war, and he killed people on SHIELD missions. But that was always in the heat of battle, self-defense. 

Part of him thinks he should stop. Go home. But home is 73 years ago, and he can never go back to it. And he knows –

“New mission protocol,” he says, and James’ head tilts to the side, waiting. “No more detaining unless we know for sure there’s non-Hydra present.” 

James nods once.

The history books, the public – there’s an image of Captain America, a belief in who he is. Captain America is an idol, an ideal. He’s not real. And Steve’s not playing the game anymore. 

“We should rest,” he says. There’s a manufacturing plant half a day away and they’re hitting it within the week. 

Part of him thinks he should feel guilt. 

He doesn’t.


	29. time will ease your pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: time will ease your pain  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Patty Loveless   
> Warnings: spoilers for Cap2  
> Pairings: Steve/Bucky   
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 200  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: any. any/any
> 
> _if my voice could reach back through the past_   
>  _I'd whisper in your ear:_   
>  _"Oh darling, I wish you were here"_

He's fighting an alien army from outer space and twelve days ago, Bucky fell off a train.

He's visiting Peggy and leaving flowers at memorials and reading names on gravestones and three months ago, Bucky fell off a train.

He's living in DC and running every morning till he can't breathe, and nine months ago, Bucky fell off a train.

He's going on missions and fighting bad guys (at least, he's _told_ they're bad) and a year ago, Bucky fell off a train.

He's going on missions and running every morning he can and watching Peggy forget, and 18 months ago, Bucky fell off a train. 

He's watching an assassin rise to his feet and turn around, and a little over two years ago, Bucky fell off a train. 

.

He prayed every night that Bucky would come back. 

"… Bucky?" 

But not like this. 

"Who the hell is Bucky?"

.

Four years ago, they were curled up together on a too-small bed, talking about the future. 

He prayed they'd be together forever. 

.

He wakes up on a riverbank beat all to hell and Bucky is alive. 

He breathes through the pain and it feels like his life has finally started again.


	30. beneath the birth of the sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: beneath the birth of the sky  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: post-Cap2, violence  
> Pairings: Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 130  
> Prompt: MCU, Steve/or& Bucky, Bucky keeps saving Steve's life

The asset leaves the mission on the riverbank. 

.

 _He_ circles back around the ex-mission as the ex-mission chases after _him_ and shoots the three members of the STRIKE team stealthily approaching the ex-mission. 

.

The robot zooms in from the north while Captain America is distracted; James uses up the rest of his ammunition taking it down and then has to utilize hand-to-hand combat to escape before Captain America's team attempt to apprehend him (again). 

.

“Bucky!” Steve goddamn Rogers shouts as Bucky falls over the edge. 

“Stay up there, you fuckin’ punk!” Bucky shouts back because if Steve gets himself killed after Bucky broke cover to save his life – 

Wilson swoops in to catch him, shoves him into Steve’s arms, and returns to the battle. 

“Bucky!” Steve says again. 

Bucky sighs. “Hi, Steve.”


	31. if thou diest, my love, I know not where to go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: if thou diest, my love, I know not where to go  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Keats  
> Warnings: violence, torture, brainwashing, death  
> Pairings: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 650  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: author's choice, any, "You either die a hero, or you live long enough to become a villain."

Bucky Barnes died in the mountains. Died saving Captain America's life. Died a hero. 

He should've stayed dead. 

.

The asset is a magnificent weapon. Terrifying. 

Great care is taken to ensure that it stays a weapon with no mind of its own. 

.

Bucky Barnes died in the mountains.

No. That is inaccurate. 

Bucky Barnes died in care of Hydra in 1957. It was not an easy death. It was slow, inch by agonizing inch. He fought till the very end. 

For a long time, Hydra remembers. 

Hydra should not have forgotten. 

.

The Winter Soldier is not in the files released on the internet. No clear image was recovered of the madman who attacked Captain America in DC. Captain America gives one interview when he’s finally out of the hospital, before vanishing from the public eye for three years and nine months. 

Captain America promises that the man who attacked him is dead. (Very few notice (and no one listens to them) that he didn’t name anyone in particular. Many men attacked him over the course of those two days.)

.

Bucky Barnes died.

.

“You should let me go,” the ex-asset tells the ex-target. “’m’broken. Put me down.” 

“Not ever,” the ex-target tells the ex-asset. “I don’t care what they made you do. I don’t care where we go. Just please let me go with you.” 

They stare at each other in silence for eight minutes and 39 seconds; the ex-asset counts. Finally, _he_ sighs and sags back against the wall. “Don’t wanna be caged,” he confesses. 

_Steve_ promises, “You won’t be.” 

.

Bucky Barnes died. 

He begins to resurrect when Steve Rogers, in the midst of battling for his life, pauses to ask, “Bucky?” in shock and awe and just the smallest bit of heartrending joy. 

.

They never called their weapon _Winter Soldier_ to its face. Occasionally, they gave it a male pronoun, depending on the particular handler or scientist’s sensibility. 

The asset noticed but was not programmed to care. 

Bucky cares a great deal. To Hydra’s detriment, Steve Rogers cares more. 

.

Bucky Barnes died a hero. 

The Winter Soldier goes down in history as a nameless madman who worked for Hydra and did his best to kill Captain America so that Hydra’s masterplan could be initiated. 

(Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier’s best friend destroys a gym when he learns that.)

.

When needed for the supervillains and would-be world-enders, Captain America (the original flavor) comes out of retirement. Sam Wilson has taken over the designation, with an upgrade of wings. No one knows where Captain America retired to. 

(In fact, Steven Grant and his husband James live in [Eguisheim](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eguisheim), American boys fleeing from their disapproving families. James speaks French like a native, but Steven’s American accent is still quite obvious, no matter how much he tries to hide it. 

James has a very high-tech prosthetic left arm, and he never talks about how he lost his real arm. Steven, though, says that James is a hero.) 

Sometimes, if the threat is high enough, someone else arrives to the battle with (original flavor) Captain America. He wears a mask that covers his entire face ( _not a muzzle_ ) and gloves, in full body armor. He’s as fast as (original flavor) Cap, and seemingly as strong. Nobody knows his name or his story, but he’s got a massive following. 

After every battle, though, (original flavor) Cap and the masked stranger disappear. 

(A lot of people think they go home together, to wherever that is. A lot of other people think that’s ridiculous.) 

.

In Eguisheim, James drapes himself across Steven’s back as Steven’ sketches, his head resting on Steven’s shoulder. 

“Are you happy, Stevie?” he asks softly. 

“I am,” Steven says, turning his head to press a kiss to the top of James’ head. “What about you, Buck?” 

James sighs. “I’d forgotten how it felt,” he says. “But, yeah. I am.”


	32. I want to be there when the desert blooms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: I want to be there when the desert blooms  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Matilyn Singer  
> Warnings: references to everything in the Winter Soldier’s backstory  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 335  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: author's choice, author's choice, "I'll not be your weapon."

He's sitting on Steve's bed, feet firm on the floor, a knife on either side of him and a gun in his flesh hand. His left hand is palm up on his thigh. 

Steve stares at him from the doorway, still frozen in setting his shield down. If he looks away, he’s sure Bucky will be gone. 

"I knew you," Bucky says. 

"Yeah." He nods. "And I know you. I've always known you." 

Bucky inhales and slowly lets it out. "I won't be your weapon," he says. The words should be strong, sure. Instead, he only sounds afraid. 

"I don't want you to be my weapon." God in heaven, Steve could kill them all right now with a smile. "Just be my friend." _Let me take care of you now, Bucky. It's my turn. It'll all be okay. No matter who I have to kill to make it that way._

Bucky looks down, twisting his lips, biting at the bottom one. "I won't go in a cage." 

The remnants of SHIELD are looking for him, same as HYDRA. Same as every government that knows of him. 

"I won't let them cage you," Steve promises. "We can go anywhere you want." 

Bucky nods slowly. "I want," he says. "I want to stay with you." 

They can't stay in New York, that's obvious. "Okay," Steve says. "I gotta pack a few things and then we'll head out." 

Bucky watches without moving as Steve takes only the essentials -- a change of clothes, a few unperishable foods, his toothbrush. When he's done, Steve glances around his apartment one last time. He's barely been here since moving from DC, busy looking for Bucky, tearing down Hydra. He won't miss it, he thinks. Just like his DC apartment, it never felt like home.

"Let's head out," he says and Bucky rises from the bed. He texts Sam and Natasha, _Somewhere I've got to be. Sorry. Thanks for all your help._ and leaves the phone on the table beside the door.


	33. Remember me when I am gone away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Remember me when I am gone away  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Christina Rosseti  
> Warnings: a couple weeks post-Cap2; angst; references to brainwashing/torture/violence  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 260  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: MCU, Steve/Bucky or Steve/Sam or Tony/Bruce, magic spell that gives one of them telepathy

The asset wakes to _oh god bucky where are you where are you bucky please I'm sorry bucky I'm sorry where you are please let me find you please I'm sorry you're alive bucky I'm sorry_. The asset reacts by unsheathing its knife and pointing its gun but there is no one present making the sounds. The sounds are… in its head? It double and then triple-checks but it alone is present in the rotting building. 

The sound continues incessantly despite the asset’s solitude. It is familiar. It is the same voice that -- _Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. You’ve known me your whole life. I’m not gonna fight you. You’re my friend._

But how is that voice in its head? The target – the man – the mission. The man is hundreds of miles away. The asset is in deep-cover, hiding. 

_bucky I’m so sorry_ , the voice cries. How is the man sending the words into – they are in the asset’s head. How? Not even its masters had managed to crawl into its head. There were moments of peace, between waking and missions. Now it has no peace. The man is begging as targets begged, but not for – 

_bucky please let me find you you’re alive I’m sorry_. 

“Shut up!” the asset shouts and immediately cringes back, expecting – 

But there are no masters here. The asset no longer has masters. The asset is free. 

_bucky_

Except from the man’s voice. 

But voices cannot hurt. Cannot hit or burn or cut. 

The asset disregards the sound and returns to sleep.


	34. seal the hushed casket of my soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: seal the hushed casket of my soul  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Keats   
> Warnings: Post-Cap2. talk of torture/brainwashing/death  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 290  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: any, any, _Judge if you want. / We are all going to die. / I intend to deserve it._

They took a decent man, stripped him of everything but the skills hard-won in war, poured in intel and frost, taught him to obey, and then unleashed him on their enemies. 

(No. He was never unleashed. He was tethered the whole time but didn't have the awareness to recognize it.)

The world thinks he’s a monster. 

There is no leash, now. There’s only the ice thawing, the man opening his own eyes after decades of forced sleep inside his own body. 

He was a decent man. He almost remembers, sometimes. He was a decent man, an exemplary soldier, a good friend. And he was a terrifyingly effective weapon. 

He can have no life, now. He’s aware enough to realize that. If he’s found, he’ll either be the scapegoat for everything and put down or wiped again to be someone else’s weapon. 

He’s no one’s weapon, now. No one but his own. Never again anyone’s but his own.

They spent a great deal of time turning him into a ghost. He turns it back on them. 

He will self-terminate before allowing anyone to capture him, but until then, he’s going to hunt down all the rats and the heads and the people who thought it was a good idea to take a decent man and strip him of everything that made him decent. 

(It took a long time. He remembers that. Bucky Barnes was a pretty swell guy. That last day he could call himself Bucky Barnes, all he’d had left was his hatred. Then they took even that.)

After the implementation of Project Insight, Project Winter Soldier would be obsolete and terminated. He knows they waited too long.

He takes great joy in making sure they know it, too.


	35. from dust I have sprung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: from dust I have sprung  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Lord Byron   
> Warnings: post-Cap2. talk of brainwashing/torture/death.  
> Pairings: implied pre and post-Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 505  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Any, any, _I brought some marshmallows. Let's burn this world down_

He finds Bucky in one of Hydra's training facilities, staring at one of those goddamned chairs surrounded by dead and dying Hydra agents. 

“I’m not who you knew,” Bucky says without looking at him. Bucky laughs; it sounds rusty, painful. “I remember _Frankenstein_ , you know. The man that was, he loved that book. Frankenstein and the monster.” 

Steve says, “Frankenstein _was_ the monster.” 

At that, Bucky turns to look at him. “I’m not done yet,” he says. “Maybe I never will be. I’m not stopping till they’re all dead and burned.” 

Steve nods. “You mind if I tag along?” 

Sam’s gone home. Steve doesn’t answer calls from Stark or Fury anymore. Natasha still texts him sometimes, but she’s busy trying to save Barton from whatever mess he’s in. Coulson (who, somehow, is not dead? seems to be the year for resurrections) has taken over SHIELD and is trying to rebuild it from the ground up, which… Steve’s tabled that rage, for now. There’s only so much anger a body can take. Sharon (who is Peggy’s niece? that’s awesome, Fury, thank you for that mindfuck) told him that she was sorry, but his visits were causing Peggy stress, and now that he’s been chasing Bucky around the globe, he can’t make it in anymore, anyway. 

“This isn’t a back alley,” Bucky says. 

“I know that,” Steve says, choking down the tears that won’t help here. “This is war, Bucky.” 

Bucky flinches. “I’m not that guy,” he says, shaking his head. “Don’t call me that.” 

“Okay.” Steve takes a step closer, smiling when Bu—he doesn’t move back. “What do you wanna be called, then?” 

“I saw the exhibit. You said -- _James Buchanan Barnes_.” He glances at Steve and then looks down. “You said, _You’re my friend_.” 

“I am your friend.” Steve risks another step. “It doesn’t matter what those bastards did, or what you call yourself, or even what you do, now that you’ve got your mind back. I’ve lived without you for two years and I’m not gonna anymore.” He exhales noisily. “Not unless you send me away.” 

“James,” Steve’s oldest friend says. “It’s the name his mother gave us.” He darts a glance at Steve. “Is that accurate?” 

Steve nods, smiling. “The guy I knew, he didn’t wanna go by it because there were so many James’ around, but it’s what your mama called you.” 

“James,” Steve’s oldest friend says again. “Call me James. And you’re Steve.” 

“Hey, James,” Steve says. “Nice to meet you.” He gaze slides from James to that fucking chair. “You mind if I destroy that thing?” 

James turns back to look at it. “I remembered you,” he says. “And they took it away. Over and over and over again. I didn’t – I never fought them, after. I just… let them take everything away.” His arm whirs as he clenches his hand into a fist. “They’re all gonna die, Steve.” 

Steve made a promise, once. Instead of keeping it, he crashed a plane. 

So he says, “Sounds good to me.”


	36. You were mine but I lent you out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: You were mine but I lent you out  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton   
> Warnings: references to violence and death  
> Pairings: implied post-Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 300  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Any superhero universe or cop show. Any. Sometimes it doesn't pay to save the world.

Three times now, he’s put the world ahead. Stopped Schmidt, put the plane in the ice, thought that’d be the end of it. Fought aliens twelve days out of the ice, helped stop the invasion. And then Project Insight, when it turned out Hydra was never gone at all. 

Fought Bucky for the sake of the world. _Hurt_ Bucky so that millions would live. 

For this. For scapegoating and sham trials and people who’ve already decided who to string up to salvage their pride. 

He lets Stark and Natasha handle it, first. Lets them try. He’s looking for Bucky, trying to make sure he’s not hurt and alone and afraid. Three years out of the ice, three times saving the world – three times he thinks Bucky is dead, before Bucky finally lets Steve find him. 

And then. Then Stark contacts Sam. 

He saves them at some cost to Bucky. Every time. And Stark promises they have it in hand.

Scapegoating. Sham trials. Footage of Bucky on the bridge, mission after mission after mission in the files. Someone has to pay. 

What’d he even bother fighting for, if this is how it ends? 

When he’s more Bucky than not, which is more often as days of quiet pass, Bucky says, “Oughta let ‘em have me, Stevie.” 

“That’s never gonna happen,” Steve says. Sam goes back to DC, tries to help with Natasha and Stark and Banner, and even Coulson, when he comes back from the dead, because why the fuck not. Ms. Potts and Hill, they have some plan in play, and they promise to call Steve when they need him. 

_The needs of the many_ , Steve thinks, watching one of the films Sam swears is vital, Bucky asleep and slumped against him, _no longer outweigh the needs of the one_.


	37. the mercy of one voice speaking from far away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the mercy of one voice speaking from far away  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Denise Levertov   
> Warnings: takes place after Avengers2  
> Pairings: maybe implied Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 400  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: MCU, Steve/+Bucky, _oh, to see what they did to you... It would break your captain's heart_.

He still goes to the memorial. Sits at the base, stares at the stars. It's quiet, here. 

He talks, too. Tells the granite things he tells no one else. Natasha would listen, he knows. So would Sam. Even Bruce and Clint and St- _Tony_ , if he let Tony fiddle with something while he talked. 

Three days out of the ice, he’d snuck away from SHIELD and come here, traced the name with eyes and fingers and lips, and talked and talked and talked until the sun came up. There’s no body in the dirt, no ashes in an urn – two soldiers who never made it home, names side-by-side, and little things left by mourners and visitors and tourists to honor heroes who died for their country. 

Steve didn’t die. Neither, it turned out, did Bucky. 

But he still comes here. He did every week for two years, talking to a ghost because he couldn’t talk to anyone else. Even after he started seeing Peggy – but she’d understand, if she knew. If she remembered. 

Steve Rogers had Bucky Barnes when he (literally) had nothing else. Bucky went to war and Steve followed when he could. Bucky died and Steve went down when could’ve found a way to live. Two years later (decades in the future) and Steve shouldn’t have been shocked when that mask fell off and Bucky turned. 

He talks and talks and talks, through grief and rage, through joy and regret, through enough guilt it’d drown him if he didn’t have hatred to counteract it. 

Bucky’s out there, somewhere. Ultron is finally down and Steve isn’t needed by this team (not his, not yet, maybe not ever if — ). 

They’ve all talked at him, what’s left of SHIELD and their therapists, their doctors, their _specialists_. Bucky’s damaged, Bucky’s the enemy, Bucky this that and the other. Except, they don’t use his name. They use what Hydra called him, and Steve’s fists clench every time, he grits his teeth, he focuses his eyes on the nearest wall and he thinks one simple thing: _Bucky’s alive and so am I_.

His eyes trace the name. His fingers follow. “I’ll see you soon,” he says because this is a second chance and he’s going to grip it with all his strength, track the line to wherever it ends, and he does not care in the least who tries to stop him or gets in the way.


	38. No more water but fire next time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: No more water but fire next time  
> Disclaimer: not my characters   
> Warnings: depression, Winter Soldier’s canon backstory, violence  
> Pairings: implied Steve/Bucky, maybe  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 560  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: any. any. _You're what keeps me believing the world's not gone dead_.

He's spent so long drowning that he lets himself go blank when he surfaces, staring and staring, shoved to his knees, dragged to a van, and it's not until his perfect hearing catches Natasha's little gasps of pain that he blinks and comes back. 

He’s spent so long barely living that he’d forgotten he’s alive. 

He’s alive. They thawed him and put him to work, aliens and mad scientists and spies and _bad guys, Cap, do what you do best, what you were made for_. 

Because he was, wasn’t he. Made for this. Cooked up in a lab.

He’s alive. _breathe in, hold it, breathe out. breathe in, hold it, breathe out. that’s it, stevie, you can do this. breathe in, hold it, breathe out_.

So is Bucky. Somehow. Bucky is alive and doesn’t know who either of them is, and – and –

Hill breaks them out, takes them to Fury, and he gets platitudes and apologies and half-assed lies, and he burns down Hydra for the second time (for the same man), and Bucky beats the shit out of him and he beats the shit out of Bucky, trying not to scream _I’m sorry_ the whole time, and then he falls. 

He hits the water and he’s gone. 

.

He surfaces to medics shouting at each other. He goes back under. 

.

He’s alive. So is Bucky. 

He has to heal. Has to duck the media and the authorities. Has to come up with a plan.

What he tells his friends and what he hoards in his heart are different things. 

Captain America has done his duty. Steve Rogers, though, fell down on the job and he’s finally standing back up, getting back in the ring. 

Steve Rogers has been drowning for over 70 years but he’s surfaced, now. He’s finally surfaced. He’s alive. 

There is only one thing left for Steve Rogers to do.

.

Sam doesn’t say anything the first time Steve executes a blubbering Hydra operative, already on his knees with his hands behind his head. Sam flinches, though, and doesn’t look at Steve for almost five hours. 

Sam doesn’t say anything the second, third, or fourth time, either, because the blubbering Hydra operatives were all involved in the Winter Soldier project somehow. 

Sam does speak up the first time Steve points his gun at a Hydra operative begging for her life who had nothing to do with the Winter Soldier project. 

Steve listens to Sam’s argument. Then he pulls the trigger. 

.

Sam goes home and Steve misses him for a little while. But he’s got his mission. He’s breathing and the world’s in color, and he’s not going through the motions because there’s nothing else to do.

He’s doing this for Bucky. There’s nothing else he’d rather do, except be by Bucky’s side. 

.

None of Steve’s childhood scars made it onto his new body. None of his new wounds scar. 

His lungs don’t stutter and hitch anymore. He can take a full breath and hold it, never have to worry about his lungs failing. 

He almost drowned, when he was a kid. Bucky saved him. 

Bucky saves him every time. 

.

He’s spent more time drowning than he’s spent breathing air. 

But he’s not drowning anymore. He’s alive. So is Bucky. 

And when he finally catches up, when Bucky lets him catch up, they’ll face the world together, alive and alive and alive.


	39. Just grab my hand and don’t ever drop it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Just grab my hand and don’t ever drop it  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Taylor Swift  
> Warnings: violence/torture/brainwashing; post-Cap2  
> Pairings: Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 850  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Avengers movieverse, Steve/+Bucky, "No matter what anyone else tells you, love is not necessarily a good thing."

_There are things that are weapons, when used dangerously. Emotions, you understand, are dangerous at the best of times. Anger can cause incidents of violence. Envy is the same._

_Our weapon, Sergeant Barnes, will have no emotions beyond loyalty to the cause and the handler. Do you understand? Nod if yes._

_Ah, good. You look confused, Sergeant?_

_Fear not. Soon, in fact, you will not fear at all. Sergeant Barnes is long dead, is he not? You are our greatest weapon. You will be known only as the asset._

_Nod if you understand._

_Good._

…

The first thing the asset feels is anger. It pushes through the greatest malfunction in all the asset’s missions and allows the asset to keep beating the target long after the asset should have stood down. 

The second thing the asset feels is fear as the mission falls into the water. 

The third thing the asset feels is confusion that it feels anything at all. 

…

It is four months after the asset’s last mission that the asset realizes what _love_ is. The next day, the asset chooses to call itself James. 

…

Six months after the asset’s last mission, James decides to use male pronouns. 

…

Eight months after the asset’s last mission, James returns to Steve. 

…

James feels a great deal. He has had to relearn his body’s messages and the emotions that rip through him. His control is hard-won, but burning Hydra to the ground helped. 

Always, the asset’s targets on the close contact missions had been afraid. Had begged. Some had fought. The asset had noted everything and understood none of it.

James understands, now. 

Bucky Barnes, he knows, had hated Hydra. So too does James. 

…

 _Hate_ scares him.

 _Love_ scares him more.

…

“Bucky,” Steve breathes, eyes wide.

“Steve,” Bucky replies. 

…

Hydra took everything from him. There is much he doesn’t remember and probably never will. They left him only loyalty, but it was not true loyalty. His true loyalty has only ever been to his family and Steve and his team. Only Steve remains. 

James knows that he is a man now and was a man before. But he was the asset for far longer. He is a weapon. 

He chooses who wields him now. 

…

“They didn’t want me to remember emotions,” he tells Steve late one night. “Because it would mean I remembered you.” 

Steve (stupidly) leapt between James and an energy blast from one of AIM’s latest projects. James then proceeded to tear apart every member of AIM present, including the ones who had already surrendered. 

“I love you, Stevie,” James whispers, reaching out with his left hand to stroke Steve’s cheek. 

Steve’s team fears him. SHIELD is still trying to rebuild but James knows they want to take him in. Lock him away somewhere. Perhaps put him down like a rabid animal. He’s dangerous. Steve’s the only reason he’s still free. 

James will never be caged and shackled again. 

He knows that Steve loves him and that’s a dangerous thing. Emotions cause foolishness. Hydra was right to take them from him because the depths of the love he feels for Steve are utterly terrifying. 

“Love you, too, Buck,” Steve murmurs, barely conscious. 

For an entire two minutes, James had believed Steve to be dead, and it was the worst thing in his memory. 

“Don’t you ever do that again,” he says, leaning over to rest his forehead against Steve’s. 

Steve says, “You either.”

…

James’ choice will always be Steve. He chose Steve when he knew nothing. He chose Steve when he was a boy in Brooklyn and when he was a man in the middle of war. 

Love is a dangerous thing, and Steve will choose James, too. He will choose James over the Avengers and SHIELD, and when it comes down to it, he walks away at James’ side. 

Steve has fought his whole life. He has sought out fights. Bucky Barnes fought when he had to. The asset’s only purpose was violence. And James – 

“What do you want?” Steve asks him. 

James – James says, “I want to feel safe.” He has never felt safe outside of Steve’s presence.

“Then let’s leave,” Steve says. “Not fight anymore.” 

Bucky Barnes would’ve argued that Steve couldn’t stop fighting if he tried. The asset would have simply followed silently. But James asks, “Are you sure?” 

“I don’t want you to be my weapon, James,” Steve says. “You’re my friend. You’re my – my – the other half of me.” He reaches out to clutch James’ shoulder and leans in, resting their foreheads together. “You’re not happy here. If you’re not happy, I’m not happy. So let’s leave. I’ve done my part. I’m done.” 

“Where will we go?” James asks. 

Steve laughs softly and shrugs. “The world’s a big place. Let’s explore.” 

…

_He still fights, Dr. Zola. It is extraordinary. I fear that if we dig too far, we will do permanent damage._

_Of course, sir. He heals very quickly._

_Yes. I understand. Nothing left but a blank slate that we will write over._

_Dr. Zola, please... you know the subject best. Instruct us._


	40. medicine of the soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: medicine of the soul   
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: angst, depression  
> Pairings: some Steve/Peggy and Steve/Bucky leanings  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 490  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Avengers movieverse, Bucky +/Steve, He's pretty much back to his old self except for one thing

Bucky used to laugh at the stupidest things. Once he was laughing, Steve had to, too, just because. Bucky could hardly ever explain what was so funny, but he had the most contagious laugh. He was so beautiful when he was laughing. The rest of the time, too, of course, but when he was laughing... by god, there was nothing more beautiful. 

Then came the War, and Peggy, she was beautiful, too. She didn't laugh as easily as Bucky, but it was just as contagious, just as gorgeous. Steve wouldn’t have ever been able to say which was prettier, but then, neither of them would’ve asked. 

He knows he could’ve loved Peggy, given time. She sure was something else. 

Bucky fell, and there’s nothing after that. No color, no light. Just… existence. Existence, and Schmidt. Well. He could take care of one of those, couldn’t he? 

Turns out, he could take care of both. 

. . . 

Except, he didn’t. 

Schmidt died, but Hydra and Steve didn’t. And Peggy’s still got a beautiful laugh, but even with her, there’s not much worth laughing about in the shining future. It’s so loud, so bright, and there’s still missions, and goddamned alien armies from outer space, and at least it’s something to do. Keep busy and eventually, the misery’ll work itself out. 

Bucky used to laugh about the stupidest things. It might be silly, but it’s his laugh Steve misses most. 

.

Bucky doesn’t laugh much these days. Banner and Stark’s (certified, trusted) doctors say it’s a miracle, how far he’s come. It’s barely been two years. He’s a human again (he never _wasn’t_ a human, but some battles, Steve doesn’t fight anymore), and he’s got hobbies and TV shows he watches, errands he runs, meals he cooks for the whole team (which he’s on, has been for three months), he visits Peggy and goes to meetings with Sam, he talks to Jarvis instead of a psychiatrist or any doctor at all, and Jarvis keeps quiet about whatever Bucky says (except that once, very early on, when Bucky had explained how much better Steve and the world would be without him). And sometimes, Bucky even smiles. 

But he almost never laughs. And it’s silly, such a stupid worry, but Steve wants that laughter back, Bucky’s full-bodied laugh, how every part of him was just so joyful. 

He hoards Bucky’s smiles, his few (barely-there) chuckles, that one time his grin lit up his whole face. He replays them on the bad days, and tries to earn more on the good. 

Bucky’s sisters are dead. Peggy never saw his true laughter. Steve’s the only person left who remembers. And it’s so selfish, because Bucky’s a miracle, to have come so far. He’s happy. He’s living. Steve’s grateful, he really is. The world’s such a bright place, when he can look over and meet Bucky’s eyes. 

But he really does miss how Bucky used to laugh at the stupidest things.


	41. a leftover rage I cannot undo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a leftover rage I cannot undo  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton   
> Warnings: violence; references to the Winter Soldier’s backstory  
> Pairings: past Steve/Bucky   
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 390  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: MCU, Steve/Bucky, Bucky wants the whole world to bleed, but for Steve's sake he only aims at HYDRA

What he never says is that he remembers everything. What he doesn't say is that he's remembered before and they wiped him. Over and over and over -- if he was out for longer than 12 hours, he got a wipe. Because he remembered quickly, who the enemy was. He remembered, and he fought, and he got wiped. 

All told, he was out of the ice for less than six months. They'd wiped him a lot in the early days, back when they were still 'training' him, trying to kill the man and keep only the reflexes. 

For almost a week, they thought they'd succeeded.

Steve finds him sitting on the dirt and watching a training facility burn. Steve talks to him the way they used to talk to feral cats and prisoners they liberated in Europe. Steve tells him they were friends, best friends, and teammates and everything in the world to each other. Steve tells him that his name is James Buchanan Barnes but he preferred Bucky. Steve tells him that it was Hydra, not him. 

He remembers everything from when he was awake and scattered flashes of dreams from when he wasn’t. He’s even looked through the data the Black Widow uploaded – he’s not mentioned in it. There was no recoverable footage of the Winter Soldier from the attack on Project Insight or the fight prior to it. What’s left of SHIELD has neither the time nor capabilities for capturing him, should they wish to. 

He remembers everything, but it has been a long journey for him, and he is not the man Steve knew. He wants his vengeance, and he wants it bloody and burnt into the face of the earth because he has shaped it and it is his to destroy. 

He is not the man Steve remembers; he says it to Steve but once. He says it but once because Steve’s face crumples and he reaches, and his grip is strong and gentle and he whispers, “I love you anyway.” 

He wants everything to bleed for what he has survived. He is a ghost and he wants to haunt the world. 

For Steve, he limits his wrath to Hydra. 

He remembers everything. (He doesn’t think of what will happen when Hydra is bled dry and ground into the dirt, or what he’ll bleed next.)


	42. lose the world for love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: lose the world for love  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from John Carey  
> Warnings: references to violence/death/torture  
> Pairings: post-Steve/Bucky, pre-Steve/ex-Winter Soldier  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 795  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Any, any, "The Fires of Pompeii."

"You know," Steve says, watching Bucky watch him, "I don't think I've ever been this angry." Bucky looks away, so Steve quickly continues, "Not at you. Fuck, not at you. At everything else."

The first thing he did, after letting Fury escort him back to SHIELD, was ask to go see Bucky’s grave. It was days before they told him where the memorial was, and then he didn’t wait to be taken there; he went himself. One of his ‘coaches’ for the future had explained that Bucky wasn’t in there because no one had ever gone looking for his body. 

The memorial was nice. Tasteful. Steve had sobbed silently for an hour before returning to SHIELD. 

No one ever went looking for Bucky’s body. Bucky never died. 

“I’m sorry,” he says now, watching Bucky sit so still, everything tucked in to make himself look smaller. Five guns, seven knives, a garrote, and a grenade are arrayed before him, and his left hand is palm up. He is not defenseless, but Steve is pretty damn sure that Bucky won’t fight back if Steve decides to hurt him. 

He breathes through the anger, trying to shove it aside. He has to be calm. Has to think. Sam is out finding something for dinner. Natasha’s check-in won’t be for another three days. Stark is busy with the DC cleanup. Fury’s in the wind. 

Bucky knocked on the door and hasn’t said a single word. He disarmed himself, settled on the bed, and has been waiting for – what? 

“Do you know who I am?” Steve asks. 

Bucky says, “Steve Rogers.” He glances at Steve out the corner of his eye. “Bucky Barnes’ best friend and captain.” 

Steve nods, then asks, “Do you know who you are?” 

“Bucky Barnes,” Bucky says. “Once. Not anymore.” He slowly inhales and exhales, then looks right at Steve. “I remember everything. But I can’t – I’m not that man.” 

Steve nods again. “What do you want to be called?”

“Bucky is fine,” he says. “For now. Until…” His left hand clenches and he slowly opens it. 

“Until?” Steve echoes. 

“I know where they’re hiding,” Bucky says. “I know the weakpoints. I…” He swallows, glancing at Steve again before dropping his gaze. “I know you.” His breathing quickens before he visibly slows it down and then he says, “I can’t trust anyone. But I trust you.” 

“Okay,” Steve says. 

.

Steve’s anger is a quick thing. It’s burns and then extinguishes itself. 

Steve’s hatred, on the other hand… 

.

He leaves Sam a note. He takes only the clothes on his back, the Winter Soldier file, and the tote bag with his shield in it. He wants to trust Sam and Natasha, and he would, if he was the only one at risk. But there isn’t a single other person on the planet he’d trust with Bucky, not after everything. 

“This mission,” Bucky says as they hurry to the safehouse he’s prepared, “it will be dangerous. Difficult.” 

They’re going to root Hydra out and burn it down, then salt the earth. Everywhere its heads have gone, every tendril, it’s all going to burn. 

“Bucky,” Steve says as they step in. “You know me. Nothin’s gonna chase me away.” 

“I know you,” Bucky whispers, lips barely smiling. 

.

There are many governments and agencies that could use an asset like the Winter Soldier. There wasn’t much about him in the files Natasha released, and Steve’s memorized the hardcopy file. He offers it to Bucky that first night; Bucky drops it in the garbage can and lights it on fire, impassively watches it burn. 

“No one will take me alive,” Bucky tells Steve before they set out.

Steve nods firmly. 

.

Steve’s anger is frightening. Steve’s hatred is brutal. 

Steve’s love… 

.

Bucky knows where Hydra hides. He remembers _everything_. His nightmares are silent but he wakes up shaking, and Steve always lets him make the first the move. Bucky curls up, looking so small for his size, and Steve curls around him. Bucky’s always cold, now, shivers in Steve’s arms. 

Every time Steve thinks they’ve gone too far, or they should ask Natasha for help or Stark for sanctuary, Bucky will share a horror from his past, or Bucky will flinch when Steve moves too quickly, or one of Hydra’s fuckers will use a codeword on Bucky that will send him to his knees, clutching his head. 

Steve knows they’re doing the right thing, killing Hydra, every single part of it, from the heads down to the drones. And once Hydra’s eradicated, then Steve will see how far the reach has gone, see who wants to use the Winter Soldier as their weapon. 

Nobody is going to use Bucky ever again. 

.

Steve’s love is the most dangerous thing of all.


	43. The water below is as dark as the grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: The water below is as dark as the grave  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: takes place during Cap2  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 350  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: any, any, water is rising around one while the other watches

_I'm with ya till the end of the line_ , the target murmurs, gazing at the asset with one eye nearly swollen shut and the other with burgeoning tears, and the asset – the asset hesitates. Those words, said in that voice… 

The helicarrier splinters around them and the asset latches onto a piece of it, hanging midair as the target falls into the river. The target sinks out of sight and the asset replays everything the target has said this day and – and – there is more, from the missing time that indicates the handlers applied the chair to the asset, maintaining it. The asset - _hates_ maintenance. But the asset hates nothing. The asset feels nothing. 

The target is in the river. The target has yet to surface, so perhaps the target has been injured enough to ensure a malfunction that allows his neutralization by the river. 

… why does that cause the asset’s heart to pound? 

The target is in the river. The asset has one functioning arm, several cracked ribs, a sprained ankle. The target is in the river and the asset – 

The asset releases its grip on the helicarrier and prepares to hit the water. 

No target has ever before (the asset thinks) actively aided the asset. So the asset will ensure the target’s survival and then… 

Then… 

_Your name is James Buchanan Barnes_ , the target said. 

The asset locates the target in the water and pulls him to shore. The asset hurts, every part of it, but the pain is easy to ignore. The target breathes, coughs up water, and so the asset leaves. 

The handlers cannot be trusted. Shelter and camouflage must be attained. After rest and refueling, the asset will choose a further course of action. Just before rounding the bend, the asset looks back, at the target prone on the shore. Helicopters are circling; he will be found soon. Given medical aid. “The end of the line,” the asset murmurs. 

The asset thinks, _I knew him_. 

Shelter. Rest. Sustenance. Then thought. The asset turns and carefully, cautiously, finds a path to safety.


	44. colors come slowly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: colors come slowly  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Denise Levertov   
> Warnings: post-Cap2  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 490  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Author's choice; author's choice; _the colors of the century are red, white, and black_. (Thea Gilmore, "Red, White, and Black")

"I have red in my ledger," she says when she finds him. 

He looks at her, red dripping off his hands, and he asks quietly, "Can it be wiped out?" 

Her lips are bright red, her hair flaming in the sun, and she says, "No." 

. 

Steve looks down at the blank page, tapping the end of the pencil against his chin. Sam told him they had to take a day of rest, and then Sam ate a hearty breakfast and went back to bed. 

He could reread the file he's had memorized for months. He could call Stark or Hill to see if anything has changed. He could wander around the town they limped into last night, see the sights. 

Instead, he's staring at the first page of a new sketchpad trying to think of something to draw that won’t hurt. Finally, he sighs and flips it closed, pulls out his phone, and calls Stark. 

.

He’s wearing a dark hoodie, dark jeans, boots, hair pulled back from his face. Probably armed, though of course he doesn’t need weapons to be dangerous. The power was cut prior to the assault so it’s dark in the lab – whatever emergency generators they had have either been destroyed or powered down. 

Steve can see the way the front of his hoodie is wet. “Are you hurt?” he asks. 

He bites his bottom lip, glancing down, and Steve just wants – so many things. “It was my hands,” is what he finally says, looking at Steve as he brings his right hand to his abdomen to cover the blood. “They used my hands. My – my body. But it wasn’t me.” He smiles, just the barest hint, and uses his left hand to gesture around them. “ _This_ was me.” 

He steps forward and stumbles. It takes every shred of willpower he has for Steve to not lunge to catch him. But when he doesn’t right himself and keeps going down, Steve meets him there, and when he leans in, Steve carefully puts one arm across his shoulders and uses the other to see how bad the injury is. 

“I’ll live,” he murmurs into the base of Steve’s throat. “But I don’t want to wake up in a cage.” 

“You won’t,” Steve promises. 

.

“Agent Romanoff,” the senator demands, “where is Captain Rogers?” 

She smiles, tilting her head. “He had somewhere better to be. Sir.” 

There’s red in her ledger, still. Perhaps there always will be. However, as Clint pointed out three days ago – she’s helped save large portions of the world twice now. Maybe that wipes out the red and maybe it doesn’t, that’s for her to decide. 

But she has a skill-set and she knows how to use it, and if she can help two good men stay free, then she will. 

“And,” she says, rising to her feet, “as it turns out, so do I.” 

As she saunters towards the exit, no one gets in her way.


	45. armor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: armor   
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: post-Cap2  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 390  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: any, any, "if you want to be inconspicuous, don't wear a bright orange hoody!"

At first, Buc- _James_ wears what Steve gives him and nothing else. For three weeks, he wears a simple white t-shirt and loose sweatpants, goes bare when Steve finally decides they need to be washed, and pulls them right back on after they're dry. 

James graduates to other colors, work-out shorts instead of sweatpants, and cycles through five different outfits for two months. 

He talks sometimes. Writes notes that become pages and pages long other times, leaving them around the apartment for Steve to find. Steve saves them all carefully, and on the bad days, he rereads them. 

Six months after they move in, James disappears for an entire day. Steve does not panic. He doesn't call Stark or Natasha, doesn't text Sam. Instead, he sits his ass on the couch and watches something he'll never be able to recall, because he promised James, back in the beginning, this was _not_ a prison. Steve was _not_ a new handler. He waits. 

James comes back just after sunset with a duffle bag. Steve greets with him a big smile and chokes out, "Hey, James, where'd you go?" 

“Got clothes,” James says. He drops the bag off in his room, eats dinner with Steve, watches a truly terrible movie about tornado sharks, and then showers before going to his room for the night.

In the morning, he comes into the kitchen for breakfast wearing clothes Steve has never seen before: a blindingly bright orange shirt and red – “Are those blue jeans?” Steve asks. 

James looks down at his legs, then back up at Steve. “Thought the serum fixed your eyes,” he says, tilting his head. “These’re green, Stevie.” 

Steve blinks, frowning. “They’re red,” he says. 

James chuckles, biting his lip. “Sure they are.”

Steve looks from the red jeans to James’ blue eyes and back. “You’re messin’ with me,” he says, trying to hide just how happy he is at the thought. James’ grin just grows. 

From then on, James chooses the loudest, most gaudy clothes he can find. It’s weeks before Steve can heckle him about it because it’s his choice and he never asks permission. He never chooses anything black, gray, or white, and some days he’ll invite Steve shopping, while other days he goes on his own. 

Steve doesn’t ask why James picks the hideous things he picks. He doesn’t need to.


	46. in the dark room putting bones into place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: in the dark room putting bones into place  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton   
> Warnings: violence  
> Pairings: Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 905  
> point of view: third   
> Prompt: MCU, Steve/Bucky, nobody realizes that Bucky is the only who really sees Steve's dark side

Steve Rogers has always fought for the little guy, against bullies and tyranny and unfairness. Everyone knows that. 

What most people don't know is that Steve chose his fight because it meant there would _always_ be a fight. 

Back in the before, people thought (when they even bothered to think about Steve Rogers at all) that Bucky finished the fights to keep Steve safe. 

He didn’t. Bucky finished those fights so that the opponents could walk away. 

Back in the before, Steve was a tiny little terrier gnawing at someone’s ankle. He got in a lot of fights because he just couldn’t help himself. That’s what the books say. He got in fights because the world was so unfair and he needed to stand up against injustice, because the force of his righteousness was just so good. 

(When Bucky’s enough of himself again, he laughs and laughs and laughs.)

In the war – well. In the war. History says what the writers want it to say. Steve Rogers is kind and honorable and good and _aw, shucks, apple pie, Fourth of July_. He’s an ideal. 

Back in the before, Steve tried to make sure the fights were never so bad that Bucky got hurt. Himself, fine, he could bleed and break, but Bucky… he never could stand seeing Bucky hurt. 

If he had known – but he didn’t know. He killed Schmidt and he put a plane in the ice, and he thought, _See you soon, Buck_. 

Back in the before, he wasn’t able to kill everyone who cut Bucky, who burnt him, who gave him nightmares and made him shudder in memory. When SHIELD wakes him up and shoves him into a brand-new war while he’s still aching because Bucky fell barely two weeks ago, everyone who hurt Bucky is still out of reach. Most of them are dead. It’s been decades. 

He reads the sanitized story of his exploits. He doesn’t ask Peggy why history is wrong. He explores New York, turns down interviews, and eventually moves to DC because SHIELD still has a use for him and at least it means he’s fighting. He stops holding back because it’s not like anyone even notices or cares. None of these people know him. None of them _want_ to know him. They have their idealized hero of the better age. 

After Bucky fell, Steve was too consumed with despair to feel rage. 

He’s come to terms with the despair as best he can, and all he’s feeling now is an anger so deep and wide there’s no escape. But he can’t get lost in it. He has to guide it, to use it. He does his best to not hurt Bucky, and he knows that every hit Bucky lands on him is deserved, is his punishment for letting this horrible thing happen to the best person in the world.

Steve wakes up in the hospital actually happy for just one heartbeat because holy shit, Bucky’s alive. The anger is next, sharp and vicious and _hungry_. He curbs it for now, hiding it with grief and worry, and asks Natasha and Stark for help, tells Sam he doesn’t have to put everything on hold, and they’re better people than he deserves because they all come through for him. 

Steve Rogers has fought his whole life. Fought the good fight. Been righteous. He was a terrier in the before, a yappy little dog easily kicked aside, and he liked it. Erskine turned him into something else and he tried to live up to what Erskine saw in him. Wars are bloody, though, and no one looked twice when soldiers died, especially if they were the enemy. 

What’s coming next is not clean. It probably won’t make it into history, the way Steve Rogers didn’t. History got Captain America. Steve wants to send Sam home, doesn’t want to drag him down. He even tries, before their first strike into a Hydra safehouse, where intel puts the Winter Soldier just after Insight. 

Sam doesn’t turn back, though. He’s a good man, like Bucky. 

Sam’s a good man, and so he deserves one more warning. “Sam,” Steve says, readying the shield, “don’t get between me and the enemy.” Sam just looks at him, one brow raised, and then he shrugs. 

Back in the before, Bucky finished the fights because none of those idiots were the enemy. They were just bullies. They didn’t deserve to die. 

Steve knows that if anyone should’ve been the Winter Soldier, should’ve been hollowed out and filled in with blood and death, it was him. Not Bucky. Never Bucky. 

He’s not a yappy little terrier anymore. And he’s got no one to answer to. 

But he’s got anger enough to burn the world, and he’s going to kill everyone who ever could’ve possibly hurt Bucky Barnes.

(When Bucky’s enough of himself again, he says, “I never wanted you to kill for me.” 

“I know,” Steve says, face buried in Bucky’s neck, hands clasped at Bucky’s back.)

In the before, Bucky finished fights. In the war, Bucky finished fights before they even started. 

In the now, Hydra’s mostly dead and when that’s done, Steve’ll see who’s next. There’s always a fight and he’s still got so much anger.


	47. freedom tastes like peppermint hot cocoa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: freedom tastes like peppermint hot cocoa   
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: adorableness  
> Pairings: Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 195  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: MCU, any/any, one person in the couple likes to text the other all day long with every little detail of what's happening that day, even if it's not important

0700: peppermint cocoa, how the fuck did i not discover this before?!

0705: crosswalks are apaprently good things?

0706: Apparently 

0715: NY drivers have not gotten better. possibly worse. you should talk to Howard’s kid about fixing that

0734: why isn't the library open? need to find Starbucks and get more cocoa

0800: no drinks in library? cruel and unusual, my friend, cruel and unusual 

0812: Stevie. STEVIE. pelase tell me you’ve read The Life and Times of Captain America? It is fuckin gold steve so much gold oh fuck

0900: STEVIE. There is a sequel from when you got dethawed. oh fuck, Im having J buy everything this guy ever wrote and READING IT ALL TO YOU

0907: are you ignoring me? cmon, I know youre up. the meeting cant be nearly as entertaining as me

0914: need more cocoa 

0917: drivers are insane this century Steve thats the 14th time I almost got hit 

0925: no seriously are you ignoring me? Whatever I did, I’m sorry. 

**0927: Sorry, Buck, Hill confiscated our phones. Stark’s fault. Where are you? I have the rest of the day free.**

0929: you remember the bridge? 

**0930: I’ll be there.**


	48. telling the world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: telling the world  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: references to the Winter Soldier’s backstory with everything that entails  
> Pairings: Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 880  
> Point of view: third

They think he’s a good man, like that would stop him. They think he’s… some sort of saint. Innately honorable, trustworthy. That he’ll do what’s right for God and country. 

He does still pray, sometimes. Ma had loved God. Bucky’s parents, too. He knows that Bucky prayed during the war. 

Bucky. 

So much of what was good in Steve fell with Bucky. Died, he thought. 

Steve used to think that most people were decent, would do the right thing. It’s why he wanted to fight so much, so that people would get the chance. 

Captain America is propaganda and Bucky Barnes spent 70 years being brainwashed and tortured by so many people. So many. 

Captain America is a historical fiction, whitewashed to say whatever those in power want him to say. 

Steve Rogers, though… 

They talk about the Winter Soldier like he’s a boogeyman, a monster. Hydra’s fist, they call him. A terrorist. He’ll be their scapegoat, if he’s ever brought in. Contained. Tried. Executed for crimes against humanity and treason and whatever the fuck else they can throw at him because how do you punish a faceless organization that spans the globe?

You give it a face. 

Sam and Natasha and Stark and Banner, Hill and Ms. Potts – they all have advice. Counsel. Stark even offers his tower as sanctuary, if Steve ever needs it after he finds Bucky. Sam actually sticks it out with him, until Steve leaves in the middle of the night because… well because. 

This is his penance. This is his offering. 

There are things he wouldn’t be able to do with company. Lines he wouldn’t cross. 

They call the Winter Soldier a monster. The Hulk and Red Skull, too. Steve, though, he knows it’s all about what can be controlled and what can’t be. Johann Schmidt thought he was a god, and the Winter Soldier was a powerful weapon, and the Hulk – well, the Hulk is terrifying because the only thing that can control it is Banner’s willpower. 

And then there’s Captain America, a bright shield and the ideal of a generation. Honorable, noble, patriotic. A hero. An icon. 

Captain America is a good man.

But Steve Rogers? He’s a pissed off little shit and he follows his own code of honor. He wants to give people the chance to do the right thing, but when they spit on that chance… 

Well. That’s that, isn’t it? 

And as far as Steve Rogers is concerned, they had their chance for seventy goddamned years, and they had their chance when Natasha uploaded all those nasty secrets, and they had their chance in the fallout. 

They chose to scapegoat the Winter Soldier. What more is there to say? 

They think he’s a good man, like that’ll stop him from doing what has to be done. 

Sam and Natasha and Stark and Banner, Hill and Fury and Coulson – they ask, in the fallout, each of them in their own way, they ask, _what in the fuck are you doing?_

Peggy Carter would be able to answer, if anyone thought to ask her. On the days he’s more Bucky Barnes than the asset, James would, too. 

Steve doesn’t bother to explain, except to James, that very first night, when James shivers in Steve’s arms and shies away in equal measure. Steve murmurs into James’ hair, trying in vain to hold back the tears, stopper up the sobs, Steve tells him, “The greatest guy I knew, he once said that if I knew something was the right thing to do, I should do it, no matter what anyone else said, he told me, he said, if the world wants me to move, I should tell the world, _no, you move_.” 

James pulls back far enough to glance up at Steve. “That’s stupid,” he mutters before leaning back in, hands clasped at the small of Steve’s back. 

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “I think he regretted telling me that the very same day.” 

They think he’s a good man, and he is, mostly, he’s pretty sure. They just want him to be good for them, on their side. And, well. Their side is against James. It’s not like Steve has much of a choice, really. 

This is Steve Rogers telling the world to move, and if the world doesn’t want to, well. He’s strong now. He’ll just make the world move. 

On the days he’s more Bucky than the asset, James says, “This is a bad idea, Steve, so fuckin’ stupid.” He wants to protect Steve, just like he always did. Even if that means protecting Steve from him, which is in and of itself stupid because even when he was the asset, he actively saved Steve’s life. 

They think he’s a good man, Captain America – but Captain America is propaganda, and the man beneath the mask, he’s only got one course of action, now. And he’s going to give it his all, no matter the cost, and they can either come around to his way of thinking or they can get out of the way. 

So on the days when James is more Bucky than the asset, Steve asks him, “I fell, that day. What would you do now?” 

The answer’s so obvious that James usually doesn’t even bother answering. “Yeah,” Steve says. “Yeah.”


	49. good guys and bad boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: good guys and bad boys   
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: history is wrong  
> Pairings: Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 180  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: any Whedonverse. any &/ any. You're the sweet to my mean.

Bucky lets another of the biographies fall with a snort. "They think I was a troublemaker," he says. "Did they do any research at all?" 

Steve grins down at his sketchpad. “I know.” 

“I mean, yeah, I got in fights,” Bucky continues, picking up another book from the pile, “but only to pull your hide out. _You_ were the troublemaker. You know how many people told me to quit bein’ your friend?” 

“I remember,” Steve says, glancing over to catch the way the light hits Bucky’s hair. 

“Do any of these books get it right?” Bucky demands, flipping through the one in his hands. 

“No,” Steve says, knowing that Bucky meant _get **you** right_. 

“Fuck that noise,” Bucky scoffs, letting the book drop. “Let’s write our own, Stevie.” 

Steve glances over again, meets Bucky’s gaze. “You mean it?” he asks. 

Bucky nods. “It’s our story, ain’t it? So let’s tell it right.” 

“Alright,” Steve agrees. “But first, quit movin’ around.” 

Bucky smiles. “I missed you drawin’ me, Stevie.” 

Steve blushes, looking back at the paper. “Well, Buck, I missed drawin’ ya.”


	50. the fury of love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the fury of love  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton  
> Warnings: violence  
> Pairings: implied Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 390  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: _Steve & Bucky - What Steve's willing to do_ 
> 
> _I can't help but think that historians aren't exactly aware of how Captain America started his journey to becoming the world's first super hero._
> 
> **In an ironic twist of fate, [Bucky's] prison camp was liberated by none other than his childhood friend, Steve Rogers, now Captain America.**
> 
> _Ironic?_
> 
> _It seems people aren't aware of the fact that Steve's first unsanctioned (suicide) rescue mission, was done with the sole intent of finding Bucky. That rescuing the other prisoners had been an unintended benefit. That he had released them because it was the right thing to do and it would have been cruel to leave them there (and because getting in was easy, but Bucky and him were going to need a distraction to get out), but **Bucky was his focus**._ It seems people aren't aware of exactly what Steve's willing to do for Bucky.

They talk about it later, the networks and the journalists and the various governments trying to decide what to do. Across the board, it’s a shock, so bewildering – _Captain America Gone Rogue?_ is the headline and the scrolling text in dozens of nations. 

In his tower, Tony Stark laughs. “That’s what you get for rewriting history,” he tells Dummy, and then to Butterfingers, “You see it, right?” You rolls over, perking up because he heard his name, so Tony adds, “It was my bedtime story, Captain America’s first mission.” He laughs again. “The _actual_ mission, I mean, when he got Aunt Peggy and Howard to fly him behind enemy lines. Sanctioned mission, my ass.”

Pepper’s a continent away, assuring various people that SI’s continued support of Captain America would not be a problem.

Tony salutes the talking head on the screen with a bottle of Coke and gets back to work, telling Jarvis to update him if anything changes. 

.

“Holy. Shit,” Clint mutters, watching Nat’s new best friend tear his way through an entire platoon? battalion? garrison? Whatever it is, Cap’s tearing his way through it. Natasha picks off the ones who try to crawl away, and then Clint takes out a sniper aiming at Cap’s head, while the flying guy swoops around dealing with the drones. Clint shoots a couple for him. 

“So… what is Captain America so pissed about?” Clint asks as the last member of the bad guys falls down dead and the flying guy heads over the building. 

Natasha smiles sadly. “Imagine if Loki had you for seventy years,” she says quietly as Cap steps over the corpses to get to the door. “Imagine what I would do.” 

Clint nods, eyes wide. Natasha meets his gaze and then turns to follow Cap, so Clint follows her. 

.

It terrifies the powerful in their palaces, because the hydra’s tendrils are many and the hydra’s heads are fragile. Cut off one, two will bloom – cauterize the stump, burn the carcass, salt the earth. It matters not where the head is, how deep the tendrils have burrowed, or what gets in the way. 

It is terrifying to behold. No matter how the media spins it, though, word of mouth spreads the truth. 

Seventy years ago, Steve Rogers began a mission to save Bucky Barnes. He is not finished yet.


	51. the fight in the dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the fight in the dog  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: ignores Avengers2; references to violence  
> Pairings: implied Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 560  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: MCU, any, we have the Stark-sized emergency, the Hulk-sized emergency, and the Captain America-sized emergency, which would you rather?  
> Note: title from this Mark Twain quote - _"It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog._

"Do you know what you're doing?" Stark asks calmly through the phone. Steve's a little surprised, to be honest - he'd expected Stark to rant and rave and already be on the way after him. 

"I do," Steve tells him. He's done it before, after all: chased Bucky all the way to Hydra and torn Hydra down to save him. He's going to do it better this time, though. There'll be nothing left when he's done but freshly-salted earth. 

“Do you need help?” Stark asks. There’s machinery whirring in the background, what sounds like Jarvis talking to someone. 

“For the clean-up after,” Steve admits. “But Stark – I don’t expect people to understand, or to condone what I’m doin’. That’s not gonna stop me.” 

“I get it, Cap,” Stark says. He laughs, short and sharp. “He’s your Rhodey and your Pepper all in one convenient package, right? So burn it down, Captain Rogers. Burn it all down. I’ll be there to clean up the mess after.” 

Not for the first time, Steve’s glad he and Stark are on the same side. 

.

Banner is waiting at Steve’s first choice for his campsite. He wants to go rampaging in right now but that won’t help Bucky – he’s tired, and he’s still got a bit of healing left to do. In the morning, though, he’s going to begin the assault, and nothing Banner says will change his course. 

“Do you remember when I said I was always angry?” Banner asks, handing an energy bar to Steve. Steve nods, so Banner continues, “I’ve been angry for as long as I can remember. One of my earliest memories is yelling at my dad for making my mom cry.” Banner chuckles. “All that did, of course, was give him a new target. I know anger, Captain. I know rage. And I know when a man is drowning in it.” He throws a glance in the direction of the base and says, “You go in there angry, you’ve already lost.” 

Steve smiles. The ache in his leg has finally faded. Sunup is in two hours. They have to know he’s coming. “I lost seventy years ago, Dr. Banner,” he says, “when I didn’t jump after Bucky.” He rises to his feet. “You gonna be my distraction or not?” 

Banner sighs. “You know how this is gonna end, don’t you?” 

Steve picks up the shield. 

.

It’s not easy. It’s not clean. Natasha’s off on a quest, and Sam’s been sent home with broken ribs, and Thor and Barton are who knows where, and Stark’s waiting, and Banner’s tearing up one side of the complex while Steve forces his way through another. 

There are two ways for this to end. Bucky surrendered himself to the American government three days ago, even after Steve had said, _You touch him, you die_. But he let Bucky go. It was what Bucky wanted. 

The agents that secreted him away, though, they’re Hydra straight to the core, and they’re all going to die. 

There are two ways for this to end. 

If Bucky is alive, Steve will be merciful and make the deaths quick, and confine the deaths to this base, until Bucky is ready. 

If Bucky is _not_ alive… 

_If Bucky is not alive_. 

Steve hefts the shield with one hand, breaks a man’s neck with the other, and goes down down down.


	52. Even the gods were terrified at the flood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Even the gods were terrified at the flood  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Gilgamesh  
> Warnings: Talk of torture/brainwashing/dehumanization  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 435  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Any, any, when you are worthless they will not expect you to rise.

They speak in front of it. Mutter information to each other, talk about television programs, movies they want to see, what they had for dinner last night, the best place for breakfast. Gripes about their families. 

(Families. _He_ had one once.)

Complain about their superiors. Rant about budget cuts. Small, pointless conversations. 

It doesn’t listen. None of the information is important to the mission or upkeep. 

( _He_ remembers it all.)

.

It speaks when spoken to, when conveying the necessary data to keep it functional. It delivers mission reports. It asks for clarification when the briefing leaves out something necessary for the mission. 

They speak around it, not to it. Only the handler speaks to it. 

.

It is a weapon – but it is not mindless. When needed, it can react, change, follow new data to obtain the optimal outcome. 

It does not know – but that makes it all the more terrifying. 

( _He_ is still there. And he is watching.)

.

“Who was he?” one of the new technicians ask while they work on its arm, restoring function before putting it into storage. 

The lead tech shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.” 

.

For over half a century, they speak in front of it. It is wiped and put away and written over hundreds of times. It is their greatest weapon. 

( _He_ is there. He remembers.)

For over half a century, they fear it and hate it and rave about what great work they have done. They study it. They learn, and then they use that data to extrapolate what Captain America might be capable of. 

It does not know that. It does as ordered. It submits. It sleeps. 

( _He_ knows everything. And he is very angry.)

.

Over half a century is nearly undone by one word. 

Over half a century is completely undone by ten words. 

.

 _He_ wakes up to the weapon panting in fear and he says, _Let me_. 

.

The weapon is not mindless. It does not know what to do, but it lets the other have control because it must assess this new data. 

He has been there the whole time, the weapon realizes. Unable to move or speak, but there, nonetheless, gathering intel. 

And so when they are safely away, the weapon asks, _What is the new mission?_

And Bucky Barnes says, _We’re burning Hydra to the fuckin’ ground._

.

A decade was needed to break Bucky Barnes. Five years to ensure the programming took. And for over a half a century, his body was used as a weapon. 

He broke. He did not die. 

The weapon says, _Mission accepted._

Bucky Barnes says, _Then let’s get fuckin’ started_.


	53. better to avenge dear ones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: better to avenge dear ones  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Beowulf  
> Warnings: talk of violence/torture/death/brainwashing  
> Pairings: Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 575  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: MCU, Bucky/Steve, just because he's Bucky Barnes again doesn't mean he regrets what he's done.

There are things he never says, here in this shiny future. He talks about how awesome the food is, how much he's grateful for this third chance at life, how he regrets everything his body was used to do. He's very careful with his words; words have power. Words cause pain. Words are important. 

He doesn't know if anyone hears what he doesn't say, but it's a _lot_.

.

 _My body_ , he says. He never says, _Me_.

.

In the war, he did a lot of shit. For Steve, he's done a lot of shit. Doing the right thing doesn’t mean doing the easy thing, and it doesn't mean doing the clean thing. And the right thing for _you_ isn't everybody’s right thing. 

Let's make that clear right now.

.

In Brooklyn, Steve got into a lot of trouble. Bucky got him out of it. Some of it, Steve never knew about. 

People die every day. Sometimes, they have help. 

Did Bucky cry about it at night? Nope. Bucky’s right thing is to keep his loved ones safe. Steve, the girls, their parents – and he’ll never be sorry for that. 

.

In the army, they taught him many things. Being in Hydra’s custody taught him more. And then he was watching Steve’s back again, keeping his men safe, and killing a lot of people before they killed him or his. 

And then he was back in Hydra’s custody. 

Hydra used his body to cause a lot of damage to the world. He had no part in it. 

.

There are things he never says. He’s not sure how to explain, or even that he wants to. This is his third chance at life. At keeping Steve safe. 

His parents and Steve’s ma are long dead. The girls are gone and Bucky doesn’t know their children or grandchildren. 

Bucky Barnes did what was necessary to protect the ones he loved. In this shiny new future, he only loves Steve. And he’s got all of the asset’s skills to protect him with. 

Steve, he knows, doesn’t see much difference between now and their relationship in Brooklyn. He spent 25 years pulling Steve out of fights; the fights are bigger, now, but Bucky’s still pulling him out. 

Sometimes, Romanova looks at him, something quiet and still in her eyes. Stark watches him warily; Barton challenges him to sniper battles. Banner keeps his distance, and he is fine with that. He knows what the Hulk is capable of. Thor’s barely around. 

It hurts Steve, a bit, but Steve’s always been a little jealous, so he doesn’t mind much, keeping to themselves except when needed for Avenging. 

.

They talk about the past. They talk about the future. They talk about the here and now. 

There are things he never says. Things he’ll always do. He doesn’t know if Steve is actually that oblivious or willfully blind, and he’s content not knowing. 

.

(“Bucky,” Steve says quietly, one of those big hands gentle on Bucky’s real shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” he demands, instantly awake.

“We need to go,” Steve says. “C’mon.” 

Bucky follows silently until they’re away, and then, tucked into a small apartment he’s never been to before, he asks, “What’s wrong, Steve?”

Steve says, “The governments of the world want you to hang for what Hydra did. I’m not gonna let them.” 

Bucky – Bucky says, “So it’s just us against the world?” 

Steve nods, a small, sad smile on his face. “Like it’s always been.”)


	54. If I wrote you, you would know me, you would not write me again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: If I wrote you, you would know me, you would not write me again  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Dar Williams  
> Warnings: portrayal of a very unhealthy situation with maybe some implied dub-con; references to torture/brainwashing/dehumanization  
> Pairing: Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 400  
> Point of view: second  
> Prompt: any. any/any. telling a lie because the truth hurts more

Steve asks, "Do you remember...?" 

You say, "Yeah, 'course, punk. How could I forget?" 

.

The truth is, you read a lot. You read things on the internet, a library's worth of books, and Steve's body language, Steve's face. You read his interactions with the others, who kept their distance from you in the beginning but have begun to treat you like you belong. Like you're Steve's.

(You are Steve's. That'll never be a lie. It never has been.)

Natasha knows, you know. But she doesn't tell. 

(You asked, once, why. She'd smiled, sadly, and said, "I know what it's like.") 

.

The truth is, you don't remember Before, and you don't remember During. You don't remember being Bucky Barnes (but you answer to that name because Steve smiles) and you don't remember being the Winter Soldier. 

You've read the reports. You read between the lines in the historical record. You put it all together, see where you have been. What was done with your hands. 

Bucky Barnes was a good man. The Winter Soldier was a very efficient weapon.

You are neither. You are both. 

.

Sam tells you, “Don’t do this. He should know.” 

You reply, “I’ve hurt him too much already.” 

Sam shakes his head. “How long do you think you can keep this up, man? It’ll hurt more when he figures it out.” 

You shrug. “I can be what he wants.” 

Sam sighs. “You should be what _you_ want.” 

You don’t know what that is. Who that is. And you can’t ever let Steve know that. 

.

Bucky Barnes loved Steve Rogers more than life itself. The Winter Soldier had no idea who the man was but saved him anyway. 

And you… Steve is kind to you. He protects you. He provides shelter and sustenance and clothing. He sleeps beside you and holds you and never blames you when you lash out in the middle of the night. 

You know what he wants, and you are _glad_ that you can provide it for him. 

.

So whenever Steve asks, “Do you remember…?” you nod and you smile. 

“’course I do,” you say, mentally reviewing all the information you have gathered and either extracting the correct data or extrapolating something. 

You are happy when Steve smiles. _Happy_. 

But… you wish you could be Bucky Barnes. He was a good man. It is him Steve loves.

You’ll cling to the lie as long as you can.


	55. to lie as all who love have lied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: to lie as all who love have lied  
> Disclaimer: the narrator’s mine. no one else is. Title from Anne Sexton  
> Warnings: spoilers through Cap2; talk of PTSD, violence  
> Pairings: Steve/OFC; implied Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 1400  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: any, any/any, finding out your lover would protect a monster if he just loved it enough

Tate's known the whole time that Steve Reynolds is Steve Rogers is Captain America. It was kinda obvious after the whole alien invasion thing, even though she'd been flirting with him the entire week leading up to that. And while no official announcement was released _after_ the invaders were beaten back, Captain America's face was out there. 

But Steve Reynolds carries himself differently than Captain America. He goes on business trips a lot and comes back a little tired but not injured as far as Tate can tell. 

They're not that serious, her and Steve Reynolds. They can't be since he's never told her he's Steve Rogers, Captain America. Fuck, she had such a crush on him as a girl. But she's a woman now, working her way through grad school for architecture, and they talk about art, a lot, about sketching and various mediums and which greats are just bullshit as opposed to actually deserving the title. 

It's fun, what they have. 

But the helicarriers just sank into the river, and DC is on fire, and everyone saw Captain America get arrested (Steve Rogers, he was dressed like Steve Rogers, where was his suit, where was his team?) and some guy with a metal arm, and it's all just --

She goes through the information released onto the internet as best she can, but not a lot makes sense. Steve doesn't answer her texts or her increasingly frantic calls. 

Finally, she just decides to drive to DC; work's cancelled anyway, and so is school for the week. Everything's chaos. She knows Steve Reynolds' address, and while it might not be where Steve Rogers actually lives, it'll do in a pinch. 

Tate knocks on the door, first. There’s no answer. She glances back down at the hall, biting her lip. It’s ridiculous, what she’s thinking – but she’s already here. She’s come this far. And Monica had taken the time to teach her… 

She’ll never tell anyone, but Tate Edison picks the lock on the door to Captain America’s apartment. She’s a little proud of it for about three seconds – and then there’s a metal hand clamped around her throat, a metal arm pinning her to the wall, and the most terrifying person she’s ever seen glaring at her. 

The guy with the metal arm who tore up DC is in Steve’s apartment. 

“Who are you?” he asks, and his voice is entirely too soft for the pure strength in his body. The hand loosens but the arm remains firm. 

She say, “T—Tate. I’m here to make sure Steve’s okay. Oh, fuck, please don’t kill me.” 

There is no expression on his face but he unclamps his fingers, lowers his arm. She sags back against the wall. She doesn’t go for her phone or move at all, watching him back away, hands at his side. His clothes look like he pulled them out of a dumpster, his hair is utterly disgusting, but he moves so silently it’s absolutely mind-numbingly terrifying, and his gaze never leaves her. There’s nothing in that gaze, like no one’s home in his head, but the way he fought – 

She doesn’t beg. He’ll kill her or he won’t. 

Tate blinks and he’s just gone. Out the window, she assumes, when she can think through the fear and sheer relief that she’s alive.

She slides down the wall, wrapping her arms around her knees, and just breathes. 

.

She wakes up to a black guy kneeling out of reach, saying, “Ma’am? Ma’am, hey, can you wake up please?” 

Tate jerks to the side, eyes going past him to see if the metal-armed guy is back, and she heaves a sigh of relief that he’s not. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” the black guy says, holding his hands up. “I am gonna ask why you’re in Steve’s apartment, though.” 

“I, I saw the news,” she says. “I couldn’t make heads or tails of the internet stuff, but I saw that Steve got hurt, and he wasn’t answering his phone, and I knew this address, and I broke in, and that, that crazy guy with the metal arm, oh, fuck, I can’t believe I’m alive.” She stops to breathe. 

The guy – and he was on the news, too, guns pointed t him just like they were pointed at Steve – says, “The soldier was here?” and begins looking around. 

She nods, trying to breathe slowly and deeply.

“Shit,” the guy says. “Okay, if you’re willing to trust me, I can take you to Steve. He’s been in the hospital, just woke up yesterday. Can you trust me?” 

Tate nods again. “I saw you – you were on Steve’s side.” 

“Yeah.” He smiles, rising to his feet and holding out a hand to help her up. “I’ll always be on Steve’s side. He’s a good guy.” 

“The best,” Tate says, taking his hand. 

.

Sam Wilson brings her to Steve’s hospital room. Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, who was also all over the news (and still is) pats Steve on the shoulder and then hip-checks Sam as she leaves, with a brief smile for Tate. 

“Tate!” Steve says, trying to smile at her. It pulls at the stitches in his cheek and he winces. 

“Oh, fuck,” she says, looking him over. “Shit.”

“I’ll give y’all a moment,” Sam says. “But, Steve -- _he_ was in your apartment.” 

She shudders at the reminder but Steve – in a few years, she’ll understand. By that point, the whole world will understand. But right now, looking at Steve who only survived because of a government experiment when literally every other person would’ve died, right now, Tate watches Steve’s entire body surge, his eyes light up, and there’s no anger at all anywhere, no fear, nothing to show the guy with the metal arm is a threat, is probably the person who put him in this bed, three days after he should’ve died. 

It’s been a week since the helicarriers. If Steve still looks like _this_ \-- how bad was it? 

“Thanks, Sam,” Steve says. Then, “Tate, I’m sorry – I guess you were tryin’ to get a hold of me?” He chuckles a little. “My phone got destroyed.” 

“I broke into your apartment,” she confesses, sitting in the chair beside the bed. She reaches for his hand, and he reaches for hers, and she says, “This really scary guy was there.” She shudders again, but Steve… 

Steve focuses on her face, and practically _begs_ , “Can you tell me?” 

So she does, even though she almost has another panic attack. Steve talks her through it, apologizing, and then she says, “I’ve known the whole time you weren’t Steve Reynolds.” 

He nods. “I figured you did. I just wanted something… outside of all this.” He uses his free hand to wave at the hospital room.

Tate takes a deep breath. “I can date Steve Reynolds,” she says. “And I can crush on Steve Rogers. But I can’t…” She shakes her head. 

Steve gently squeezes her hand. “I understand,” he says, sounding so warm and kind it brings tears to her eyes. “I’m not gonna be around for awhile, anyway. There’s something I’ve gotta do.” 

She stands, presses a kiss to his forehead, and says, “You’re amazing, Steve. And it’s been so much fun.” 

“We can still be friends,” he says. “I don’t wanna give up our art talks if I don’t have to.”

“Okay,” she says. “Text me, when you get a new phone.” 

He chuckles a little and she turns to leave. A part of her waits for him to call her back, but he doesn’t. 

Sam and the Black Widow are huddled in close in the hall. Sam separates to say, “One of us can give you ride back to your car.”

“Thanks,” she says, wrapping her arms around her middle. “I don’t care which.” 

.

Steve never gives a single interview about what happened on the helicarriers. He does talk about Hydra, though, and Project Insight. Journalists and government leaders ask about the Winter Soldier, barely a mention in the leaked information. A ghost. 

Tate tries to avoid everything about the Winter Soldier because she still sees his eyes, feels his hand around her throat. He didn’t kill her. She doesn’t know why. 

Every time they ask about the Winter Soldier, Steve looks at the camera and he says, “Come home.” 

It’s years before anyone understands why.


	56. Surfactant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Surfactant  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: everything the presence of post-WS Bucky implies including references to past non-con  
> Pairings: past-Steve/Bucky and future-Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 1235  
> Point of view: second  
> Prompt: _Steve/Bucky, Bucky turning tricks for medicine money_  
>  _During a routine Avengers get-together someone starts _how did I lose my virginity?_ game. Bucky, whose memory is still spotty and largely bereft of context, volunteers it was in the early 1930s, to a guy called Jeremy. Because Sam instilled a therapy policy to let him talk, react to nothing, and ask innocuous follow-up questions, they learn it was January, in a back alley, and he got money for it, which he used to buy medicine._
> 
>   _Steve reacts poorly, but tries to hold it together._

It makes Steve smile whenever you join what Banner has explained as “bonding rituals,” ways to tie together the various members of the team. You know that your strongest tie is to Steve and always will be, but it causes you no hardship to participate in these rituals outside of the battles fought against the enemy. 

And so when Steve says there is a get-together on Barton and Natalia’s floor, you follow along. Part of the reason you participate fairly often, though not always, is to see Steve smile, but the bonding rituals also provide intel on how to be a man instead of a weapon. 

Present this night are: Natalia, Wilson (visiting from DC), Stark (who you often avoid), Lewis (civilian), Steve, and you. “Drinking games!” Lewis shouts, handing Steve a bottle of alcohol for both of you, though you know Steve has explained before that neither of you is affected. It does not matter: the drinking among companions is the point of the ritual. 

You stay close to Steve, filing everything away for review later; you have months worth of data and you reexamine the intel instead of sleeping, most nights. You have made sure that Steve does not know (his frown and crumpled face always cause you pain, though you do not know why, even though hiding data from the handlers is not allowed ( _Steve is not a handler_ )) while you are sure Natalia knows and Wilson suspects. 

Wilson has been given charge of your ‘recovery,’ which you understand to be your quest in becoming a man again. To that end, you chose to refer to yourself with male pronouns in your first week after the failed mission, when you purposefully rescued the target from drowning and ensured the target’s survival. Before you even allowed Steve and Wilson to contain you, you chose _he_ and _him_ and _his_ in place of Soldier, Asset, and It, what your handlers had called you. When you explained that decision to Wilson, after, Wilson had both congratulated and praised you. 

“Alright, time for some truth-telling!” Lewis yells. “C’mon, dudes, gather ‘round.” She tugs and prods until everyone is seated in a circle, though she does not tug or prod you. You settle beside Steve nonetheless. 

“First time sex: go!” Lewis orders. 

“Ladies first,” Stark says with a leer. 

“Alright, fine,” Lewis groans, smiling and draining her (fourth) bottle before she begins a very drawn out story involving a “homecoming” dance and “the hottest jock in school, oh, fuck, he was so gorgeous.”

Stark goes next, and his story involves a far older woman who spent all night long teaching him.

Before she speaks, Natalia’s eyes flick towards you; her story is about a first night of freedom and a gentle lover. Something – something echoes inside, but it is Wilson’s turn, so you file it away for review later.

Wilson talks about a boy with nice eyes and hurrying before his mom got home, laughing throughout the entire story. 

“You’re up, Cap!” Stark booms, reaching over to slap Steve’s thigh. Steve has spent the entire truth-telling game bright red, but he brightens even further, ducking his head. “C’mon, Cap,” Stark says. “You spent months with a team full of hotties!” 

“That wasn’t –” Steve says. “I mean.” He glances at you for a moment, a movement that everyone catches. 

“ _Oh_ ,” Lewis gasps. “Fuck, that’s gotta be the hottest thing I’ve ever imagined.” 

“Well,” Natalia giggles, “Guess we know James’ first time, too.” 

“No, that is not accurate,” you say. There is much you do not remember – but your first sexual contact, you do. There had been some kissing with girls but nothing more. There had been kissing with Steve, too, but he was not your first experience with sexual contact. (Not _Bucky’s_ first experience. You know that the asset’s is not what anyone in this room needs or wants to hear about.)

“What?” Steve asks. “Bucky, what do you mean?”

“Steve,” Wilson says. 

“Right, right.” Steve takes a deep breath. “Bucky, you wanna tell us your story?” 

You look at Steve but he just nods. So you say, “Early autumn, 1937. Alleyway. I used my mouth.” All the pertinent information relayed, you look at Steve. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Lewis asks after a moment of silence.

Lewis is a civilian; there is no need to follow her directives. 

“Bucky,” Steve says, “why were you in an alleyway?” 

Natalia leans over to whisper to Steve, but your hearing is superhuman. “Steve, you probably don’t wanna pull this thread.” 

You answer, “That is where Jeremy wanted me.” 

Steve’s glance at Wilson is panicked; you are not sure why. Stark asks (gently, perhaps, though the softer tones are still hard to comprehend) “How’d you and Jeremy meet?” 

That, you do not know. But Stark you always obey, so you say, “I was walking.” That is true. But how you got from the bar to flirting with Jeremy, you do not remember.

“What happened after you used your mouth?” Wilson asks. Steve’s hands are clenched into fists, and Lewis isn’t smiling, and you do not understand. Is this not a game?

But Wilson asked. You always answer Wilson, even if you would prefer to keep your thoughts to yourself. So you say, “He told me he would pay double to fuck me.” 

Steve’s eyes widen and everyone else makes some sort of noise, except for Natalia, who closes her eyes and sighs. Steve presses his lips together firmly and you would like to clarify what, exactly, you have done wrong, but Steve asks, “Why were you charging him, Bucky?” 

You smile because that you _do_ know. “You were sick, Stevie,” you say. “Your ma had just died and you needed the money.” 

Steve ducks his head, nodding a little. “Aww, Bucky,” he mutters. “Shit.” 

“I’d say this party’s over,” Stark announces, climbing to his feet with a groan. “Kids, it’s been real.” 

Lewis says, “I’d better make sure he gets to the elevator alive,” and hurries after him. 

You turn to look at Wilson, hoping he can explain why your story has ended the game, but he just asks, “Bucky, do you remember… did you do that often? Things with men for money.” 

“I… do not think so,” you answer. It is not a lie. (It’s _not_. But there is so much you don’t remember.)

“Okay, that’s good,” he says. It sounds like relief. “We’ll discuss it at our next session, alright?” 

“Yes, Sam,” you say. They like you to use their first names when you speak.

Steve is staring at the ground, hands still clenched into fists. 

Natalia stands and pulls Wilson up. “We’ll see you tomorrow, James,” she says. “Steve.” 

You do not understand, and you do not know how to ask for clarification without making everything worse. So you just stare at Steve until Steve raises his head to meet your eyes. “Let’s go to bed, Bucky,” he says. 

You nod and follow him to the stairs. He does not like elevators. Because he does not, neither do you. Stairs are easier to maneuver in, and to escape from, should the need arise. 

Tonight, instead of sleeping, you go over every scene and word and expression on someone’s face from the bonding ritual. Steve lies awake next to you, face angled towards yours, but his eyes are closed. Tears leak from under his eyelids. 

You do not understand.


	57. more heaven than a heart could hold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: more heaven than a heart could hold  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: pre-Cap 1 to post-Cap 2. Talk of health issues, war issues, torture, violence, death  
> Pairings: Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 1290  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Any, any, _a heart so big, God wouldn't let it live..._

Bucky knew that Steve was gonna die young. He was just too big for his body, always determined to do the right thing, even if his body was failing around him, and Bucky did his best, he and Ma and Steve’s ma and Steve’s neighbors when they were younger, they did the best they could, and Stevie almost died a thousand times, and Bucky never prayed for much because he knew there were others in the world who needed more – but he prayed for Steve. 

He left Ma and the girls and Steve behind in New York, and he went to war. He still prayed for Steve, for Becca and Livy and Jules, for Ma. He prayed that Steve didn’t get in any real bad fights, that his cough stayed away, that he found and kept work. He prayed that Steve’s body would catch up to his soul. 

In the camp and on the table, he prayed that Ma and the girls wouldn’t cry too hard, and that Steve wouldn’t blame himself. 

.

Captain America doesn’t get sick. He heals quickly and doesn’t scar. He can walk without getting tired, take stairs four at a time, jump entire floors. His heart doesn’t skip, his lungs don’t falter, his hands don’t shake. 

The only things that haven’t changed are his voice and his eyes. 

.

“Bucky,” Steve says when they can finally rest, when they’re back at camp, after Bucky’s been seen by the medics and lied through his teeth, “Bucky, can you look at me?” 

Steve was always too big for his body. That’s why he needed Bucky, so that Bucky could help shoulder the load. But now everyone sees what Bucky always saw, and if everybody sees, then what does he need Bucky for? 

“Bucky, I thought you were dead,” Steve says again. 

Steve hasn’t cried since the night after his ma’s funeral, when they’d put the couch cushions on the floor and Bucky curled around him, held him warm and tight. But there are tears in his voice; Bucky can hear them. So he looks at Steve, bigger than him now, and so goddamned perfect, his soul finally reflected in his skin. He looks his fill, and Steve lets him, silent tears pouring down his face. 

“You look good, Stevie,” he finally says. He reaches out, grabs Steve’s hand, wraps his fingers around that wrist, feels Steve’s pulse, strong and sure and steady. 

.

Bucky knew that Steve was gonna die young. But he was damn sure gonna make it so that Steve died after him because Steve was good, so fuckin’ good. Before every mission, he wrote letters home, telling Ma and the girls that he loved them and to take care of each other. 

The last letter he writes, he tells Becca, _Now, I don’t know if Stevie’ll make it long, after I’m gone. If he does, help him, Becca. And tell him it wasn’t his fault, no matter what he says. Just because the whole world finally sees what I always did, it don’t mean Steve believes it. I know how I died, and it’s the same way I lived. But Steve, the stupid punk, I know he’ll blame himself. If he makes it, tell him it was worth it_. 

.

Over seventy years in the future, Steve Rogers will say, “… Bucky?” 

The fist of Hydra will ask, “Who the hell is Bucky?” 

The asset will say, “But I knew him.” 

The Winter Soldier will say, “You’re my mission.” 

And what remains of Bucky Barnes will drag Captain America onto the bank of the Potomac, ensure he breathes, and walk away. 

.

Steve Rogers was always going to die young. But he wakes up and wakes up and wakes up. He wakes up and Bucky’s alive somewhere out there, and Ma used to tell Steve his heart was too big for his body, that he needed to let his body catch up, and his heart broke one, twice, three times, all because of Bucky Barnes. 

“When do we start?” Sam asks while Steve looks at the file. 

“We just did,” Steve says. 

.

There is a ghost in the world, a ghost seeking two things: those who broke and reformed the ghost to suit their whims, and the man the ghost was when it lived. 

The ghost dreams of being young, of laughing sisters and a kind mother, of a little boy. The ghost can almost see the boy when awake, can almost whisper the boy’s name. The ghost yearns to see the little boy again. 

But the ghost remembers saying, _Oh, you’re just too big for your body_ , and praying that the little boy had the strength to fight until Death ran away. 

The ghost knows the little boy must have died young. The ghost also knows that it is being hunted and that it must not ever be caught. 

.

“This isn’t the end of the line,” Steve Rogers tells a ghost. 

“I can’t go back,” the ghost says. 

“Then let me come with you,” Steve Rogers begs. There’s a bloodstained shield on his back, two guns he’s used holstered on his hips, a team out scouring the town for survivors. The ghost shouldn’t be here but had to make sure Steve Rogers was safe. 

Back before, the ghost always made sure Steve Rogers was safe. 

“Your team,” the ghost says. “Your mission.” 

“ _Please_ ,” Steve Rogers says. There are tears in his voice, on his face. “I thought you were dead.” 

The ghost sighs heavily and reaches for Steve’s hand. “You look good, Stevie,” he says. 

Steve laughs through the tears, wrapping his fingers around Bucky’s wrist, feeling his pulse strong and sure and steady. 

.

Bucky doesn’t pray anymore. Steve does, sometimes. 

Steve knows that he should’ve died young, but he didn’t. Bucky has seen what his death would do to Steve, but he will still die first. Because Steve is so good, and Bucky never has been.

“Any word on the supersoldiers?” Clint asks Tony, so Tony asks Jarvis, “J?” 

“Not yet, sir,” Jarvis answers. 

“Maybe we should just let them be,” Sam tells Natasha. 

Natasha says, “I wish we could. But we’re not the only ones looking, and we’re the only ones who actually care about the men inside the weapons.” 

.

Sometimes, Bucky dreams about the boys they were. He dreams about his Ma and Becca’s laugh, Livy’s smile, the way Jules danced. He wakes up thinking he’s back with Zola, or in the ice, or strapped to the chair. 

He wakes up panicking silently (because he learned not to panic loudly) and Steve’s there, with that voice that no serum could take. 

In this new world, there isn’t much that Bucky knows. But he looks into Stevie’s eyes and he knows, _I’m gonna die for you_. 

There’s no one to write a letter to, not now, but if he could, Bucky would write, _Please take care of him, after, because I know he’ll blame himself. But if Steve Rogers gets to breathe even a minute more after I’m gone, then it was worth it_.

In this broken world, there isn’t much Steve is sure of, anymore. But he watches Bucky check the perimeter, and he’s sure that he will tear everything apart to keep Bucky safe and healthy and alive. Bucky looks back and Steve smiles at him, and Steve thinks, _I should have died young_. 

He should’ve. But he didn’t. And he’s got someone to fight for, someone to bleed and burn and break for, and the world has done enough to Bucky Barnes. Steve doesn’t pray that often anymore, but when he does, he tells God, _Don’t let them find us. Don’t let them hurt him. You know what’ll happen if they do_.


	58. Who knows how powerful your anger is?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Who knows how powerful your anger is?  
> Fandom: Marvel movies  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from a Psalm  
> Warnings: character death, violence  
> Pairings: Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 413  
> Point of view: third  
> Note: so this was a challenge. I asked my lilsis for a wordcount and she said 413.4. Yeah. I got the 413 part, but not the .4, sorry, dude.  
> 

It’s easier than he ever thought, shutting away the part of him screaming, _This is wrong_.

It’s easy because there’s a larger part shrieking, _He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone._

.

There are people Steve would prefer not to kill. 

That doesn’t stop him. 

.

Deep down, Steve has always known that he couldn’t sustain his anger forever. He justified it with righteousness, with the promise that he was protecting others, but honestly, it was just a wellspring of rage so deep and wide that eventually it would drown him. Sometimes, he used to think he was born angry. He harnessed it, to survive Project Rebirth.

When the fear of finding Bucky dead finally faded, as he pulled Bucky up from that table, he felt the anger sweep in, leaving only cold purpose behind. 

.

He breathes. In and out, in and out, hold. Hold. 

“You stupid jerk, how could you leave me here alone? Again? You know what I did last time, Buck.” Inhale. Exhale. “I’m not sure there’s an afterlife, not anymore,” he tells Bucky, gazing up at the sky. It’s a good place, this spot of ground where he’s laid Bucky Barnes to rest. “But if there is, and you can see me wherever you are, don’t watch me now.” 

.

Decades ago, the way the history books and the documentaries and the truly terrible movie trilogy and the songs and the HBO miniseries and the museums and the memorials tell it, Captain America and his Howling Commandos put the fear of God into the Nazis. 

The way Steve Rogers remembers it, there was mud and death and blood. He wasn’t standing up to bullies or defending the weak. He was after revenge, pure and simple. And then Bucky fell. 

.

Peggy’s telling Steve all about her grandchildren, and Steve listens, and Steve responds, and Steve gives her a glass of water and he smiles, just a little sadly, when she says, “You look like – like – a good man I once knew. I can’t remember his name, now.” 

“Thank you, ma’am,” Steve says. 

.

This isn’t about justice. There is no justice. 

This is clear, cold-hearted revenge, plain and simple. Erskine would probably be horrified, and so would Schmidt, though for different reasons. Either way, once Steve’s made up his mind, he doesn’t hesitate, and he doesn’t stop. 

.

Once, Bucky finished Steve’s fights for him. 

Steve’s got one fight left, and nothing’ll remain after. 

.

The world already ended in ice. 

Time to try fire. For Bucky.


	59. tell the world, “no, you move”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: tell the world, “no, you move”  
> Disclaimer: only the narrator (and the boy he remembers) isn’t mine  
> Warnings: post-Winter Soldier; a drunken attempted sexual assault and everything that the presence of the Winter Soldier implies  
> Pairings: gen, really  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 620  
> Point of view: second  
> Prompt: Any, any + someone _incredibly_ irritating/stupid, "Urge to kill, rising..."

There is a drunk three tables over, sloshing beer all over the floor, ranting about his job and his house and his "bitch of a wife," and the girl he's with is no more than 20, and she's clearly looking around for an exit but too nervous to move --

Once upon a time, you knew someone who would've marched over there, planted himself firmly, and offered the girl a hand, with a speech that the drunk wouldn't remember, even if he did let it play all the way out. 

Once upon a time, you would've hung back, just a little, letting him have his say, but ready for if the drunk made an aggressive move. 

The drunk's hand slides under the table; the girl smiles the fakest smile you've seen since your handler -- 

No. 

No one but you is watching the drunk and the girl. He'd caught your eye the moment he entered the bar, strutting with his hand low on the girl's back. _First date_ , you assessed. _45; married, unhappily; three children below 10_. The girl -- _undergraduate, one of the sciences; met online. Few months shy of 20_. This date is not what the girl was expecting. _New to town; transferred schools for a new start_.

The man was tipsy before they arrived. The girl is too shy to walk out. This is the first date of her life. 

Once upon a time, you knew someone who would have heroically swept in and saved her. 

The girl flinches. Your fingers dig into the table, scarring the wood. The man is laughing, slurring about what a good time they’ll have. 

No one is watching. No one sees. 

No. 

_You see_. You are not a no one, not anymore. Even though that heroic boy you knew isn’t here, _you_ are. 

You rise to your feet and stalk three tables over. The drunk doesn’t notice you but the girl – oh, her eyes are so frightened. Your hair is too long, your clothes ratty and stolen, but you hold out a steady hand. “Would you care to dance?” you ask softly. 

How long has it been since you spoke? Not since – 

She hesitates, then shudders, and grabs your hand. 

The drunk shouts as you gently pull her from her chair. You guide her to the empty space meant for dancing; you are the only two there. The drunk stumbles to his feet, but you turn so that the girl doesn’t have to watch him. You glare over her shoulder, letting a little – 

He jerks, falling back into his chair, shuddering as he drains his bottle.

“Thank you,” the girl mumbles into your chest. 

You speak again. “Is there anyone you can call?” 

She shrugs. “My roommate, maybe? I just… he was so nice.” 

You just keep your arms around her waist, hands barely resting on her back. Once the song is done, you lead her back to your table. “Call your roommate,” you say. 

You listen in silence as she cries into the phone. Her roommate agrees to be there within 15 minutes. You sit with her until the woman arrives, and you shadow them as they leave, arms wrapped around each other. They get into a decent car and drive away. 

The drunk is waiting just inside the door; he has given himself courage, and he is very angry. 

So are you. 

But. The boy you once knew wouldn’t kill him. You have done good tonight; you have been good for months now, ever since – 

You do not kill him. You are sure to explain your mercy, and then you forward the most recent email conversation on his phone to his wife.

You leave him outside the bar and move on.


	60. footprints in the snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: footprints in the snow  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: So, this is a bit abstract, I think, with a very unreliable narrator who has no fucking clue what is going on inside his head or outside it, so, there's that. Mentions of violence/brainwashing/torture.  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG13?  
> Wordcount: 515  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Steve/Bucky, the reason Bucky rescued Steve from the Potomac wasn't because Bucky was remembering Steve or breaking through his programming. It was because all he knows is extreme cruelty from Pierce/Rumlow/etc., and he reacted to the small bit of kindness Steve showed him like an abused dog.

There is nothing inside the asset but falling snow. He remembers it from a mission – so long ago. One of the few things to stay with him, through the sleeps. He remembers the snow, how gentle it was, how cold. Not cold like when they force him to sleep, or what’s left after the machine takes him. This cold was… quiet. Soft. 

He does not remember what the mission was, only the snow as it fell on him on his way back to his handlers. He left red footprints in his wake, but the snow covered them.

As he watches the target (the _mission_ ) fall, he remembers the snow. He remembers his handlers, his masters, the man – he remembers. 

The mission has fallen into the river. The mission is sinking. Either unconscious or too injured to swim. 

Inside him, there is snow. There is snow falling. He does not know who James Buchanan Barnes is. He does not care who James Buchanan Barnes is. Who _Bucky_ was. But there is snow falling inside him. 

The mission has sunk beneath the water, the mission who did not fight, there at the end. Who let his greatest weapon go and looked the asset in the eye, not caring of the – not snow. Blizzard, maybe. The asset struck again and again, but the mission did not –

The mission has fallen into the river, and there is snow falling inside the asset. And he does not know, he has not been told – _I knew him_ , the asset thinks through the snow. _No, I did not._

There is snow falling. He lets go of the helicarrier and falls with it. He is badly damaged, but the snow covers the pain and allows him to reach, to grab, to persevere through the water, until he has dragged both himself and the mission to the shore. He does not collapse beside the man because there is – there is snow, and it is so quiet, falling in his mind, through his veins. 

His masters’ machine, the one that takes and takes, it will not give him peace, nor will the place where he sleeps. 

The mission – coughs, a little, and breathes, on the riverbank. More of the helicarrier and the building explode. The asset is badly damaged, but he will not return to his handlers, to his masters, to the man. No. There is snow falling, and behind it, a wind is sweeping in. 

He turns away from the mission because that is no longer his mission. _Captain America_ , Steve Rogers – he is out of the water. He is breathing. 

He saved the asset’s life, and did not defend himself when the asset attacked, after. The asset does not know why, or why he pulled him from the water. 

He must find shelter. He must rest, attain sustenance. He must decide on what to do. 

No more masters. No more machine, no more forced sleep. No more cold save for what is already in him, settled in his veins, covering his bones. 

There is snow falling. He walks. There are red footprints behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://zoubstance.tumblr.com/post/85560623079/hah-bet-you-werent-expecting-this-i-winter

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Fic DVD Commentaries](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6795196) by [tigriswolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf)




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